Once Upon A Christmas
by devilishlysas
Summary: The 11th Doctor receives a stark warning from his much darker 12th incarnation that shakes him to his core leading him to alter his own future and forever changes his relationship with Clara. Will it be enough to save him from becoming the monster he fears or is this the very thing that will doom him? [AU S7.15 TTOTD & S8 (spoilers); eventual Whouffaldi; pos Valeyard; dark themes].
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or it's characters, I'm just playing to feed my muse. Please R&R that also feeds my muse :)**

**Warnings: Spoilers for Season 7 Finale 'Time of the Doctor' and sexual content.**

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><p><strong>ONCE UPON A CHRISTMAS<strong>

**PROLOGUE**

The claxon reverberated through the TARDIS and the Doctor grasped the console, staring at the warning, he felt a smile creep onto his face as he bolted to the doors and tore them open his hand outstretched in a moment of déjà vu as he caught the Time Lord distress beacon.

He turned around about to explain it to Clara, his eyes scanning the console room and expecting to find her, only to remember with a small flash of disappointment that she wasn't here, it wasn't Wednesday. And _his _Clara had only ever given him Wednesday's. He dropped his head for a moment, feeling the smile slide off his face, he missed her.

With trepidation he opened the stasis cube, he hadn't had the best of luck with these. He closed his eyes as the mental influx and felt the 'oh so familiar' mind that reached out. The message was simple. It was an invitation. The 'who' of it was of course more complicated.

The Doctor stepped out onto the barren wasteland of the ice planet he'd been called to, his eyes drifting to the impossible blue box that stood directly ahead of him, a match to his own. He stood hands in his pocket, one wrapped around his screwdriver as the other TARDIS opened and the figure stepped out. The Doctor held his position, letting the 'other' him be the one to put distance between his TARDIS, after all this was his party. The face was a surprise, not in the least because it shouldn't be possible, he had no more regenerations left, so either this was yet another face he tried to forget or he was not quite as spent as he believed himself to be. This new him looked... severe. Dashing probably in that flash coat of his with his silver hair, but there was a calculated look to him now that the Doctor didn't care for or the assessing sharp gaze of his ice blue eyes.

"Well, I'm here. I assume you have a very good reason for bringing me? Temporal knot like this could get real ugly real fast."

The other him smiled, it wasn't a pleasant thing. "This place is a still point. We will be perfectly fine to talk." His Scottish lilt took the Doctor's breath for a moment as he was all at once reminded of little Amelia. Apparently he'd taken something of her with him after all, which he supposed answered the question as to the 'when' this he was from.

"So I don't die on Trenzalore."

The Other Doctor's smile fell. "Trenzalore is fixed, it is your final destination."

The Doctor frowned taking a step closer to his future self and gripping his sonic tighter in his pocket. "Then what are you?"

The Other Doctor sighed and his eyes danced around the surroundings. "Not my choice. But you know me, never could deny our Impossible Girl anything could we?"

The Doctor swallowed hard as he tried to puzzle the ramifications of that, but the only thought that reverberated was the idea of Clara, _his_ Clara with this version of him. It didn't sit well. "Is she safe?" he pressed.

"She's inside." The Other Doctor flicked his head to the doors behind him, but there was a pain he was too slow or too unwilling to mask as he turned his head back to him. "Safe is relative." He admitted, slipping his own hands into his pocket and flaring out his jacket to reveal the flash of red lining beneath that held the Doctor's attention for a moment as it stirred a memory of another him.

The Doctor stepped forward quickly until he was right up in his personal space. "What have you done?" he hissed, feeling the old familiar sweep of self loathing.

The Other Doctor was not cowed, he met his quiet fury with his own raging gaze, if he was ice than this new him was fire, explosive. "Difficult regeneration. As you can imagine, it wasn't exactly meant to be." The Other Doctor winced slightly in remembrance. "But it is not what I have done, this is about you." He leant in close. "The feelings you attempted to bury for your Impossible Girl, she was your obsession for so many years, all that energy never spent. She will be the last face you see... the last thought."

The Doctor stared into the blue stone eyes of his counterpart horrific understanding spreading through him. "And she will be the first face this face sees." He concluded for him and the Other Doctor nodded and he felt the ripple of pain from the man he would become.

"Did you hurt her?" The Doctor pressed his voice clipped with barely restrained anger.

The Other Doctor winced. "Of course I did." He snarled, forcing the Doctor to spin away for him for fear of tearing his own head off, tugging at his own hair instead as he let out a cry of rage, hitting his own thigh in an attempt to stop himself. "I was supposed to be something else... turn into something else, someone else entirely." The Other Doctor added quietly, "The Valeyard."

The Doctor's head snapped back to his counterpart. "But you're not." He felt something leaden inside of him, certainty that the creature before him wasn't _that_ not yet, understanding and the inklings of the why surfaced. "Because of her. She grounded you, kept you enough like me."

"Love is such a trite word." The Other Doctor smiled through the pain. "But it would be apt to say my love for her kept the Beast at bay; more or less. Time was re-written."

The Doctor stood nose to nose with him again. "Then what do you want of me?"

The Other Doctor's expression fell. "It's not enough, the idea of love, the memory of it." The he lamented. "Not now she has rejected me utterly." He met his eyes, "I am losing myself to..._him_."

"Let me see her." The Doctor demanded, hearing the shake to his own voice and hating it, not wanting to consider the ramifications of her rejection on this decidedly darker version of himself. The Other Doctor seemed to consider it.

"It will only fuel your self-loathing. And I still need you to do something for me." There was a nervousness there, an unwillingness to reveal her and so himself.

The Doctor grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket. "Then ask whatever the hell you want; but you will take me to her." The Other Doctor nodded once and the Doctor dropped his hands, letting him straighten himself out.

"When you return to your timeline I need you to act on your feelings." The Other Doctor told him quickly. "And I don't mean consider giving the girl a longer hug or a chaste peck on the lips, I want you to act on what you have been restraining since the moment her Victorian self pressed her lips to yours."

The Doctor frowned. "No."

The Other Doctor laughed it was a dark mirthless sound. "Even to save her? To save yourself? She wants you, you know."

He clearly knew what he was asking and still he asked it. Perhaps he really was the Valeyard. "Clara is..."

"Precious." The Other Doctor completed his train of thought for him, disturbing given the clear disconnect between them.

"Yes." The Doctor snapped. "She is. I will not sully her with... me." he indicated himself, "I, _we_, are a blood soaked ancient thing, I will not taint her with that, she deserves so much better."

"But you will... sully her." The Other Doctor told him darkly the implication heavy between them and the Doctor reacted, swinging his fist and hissing as it connected with a bone jarring thud on his counterparts face, who stumbled away touching his lip clearly surprised to see blood. "I am cut from a darker shade." The Other Doctor admitted. "All that nobility, that morality, I feel it seeping out through the soles of my feet with every step I take. And she is right there in my path, placing herself between me and the Universe, just as she has always done."

The Doctor felt his hands shaking. Killing his future self would be utterly impossible, the foreknowledge alone would drive him to madness, making the act itself futile. But he couldn't stand by and let him back inside that ship, not if Clara was in there.

"My plan _will_ work." The Other Doctor clearly sensed the descent of this conversation.

"What plan is that?" The Doctor snarled, "Have me seduce the girl? How will that help anything?"

The Other Doctor smiled. "She loves you, but it is not a physical thing yet, it has not branded itself into her soul. How can it when she does not know that it is reciprocated."

The Doctor let out a snort of derision seeing the plan take shape in his own mind. "So you want me to consummate our feelings. Let them bloom in her so that when I die... her love will transfer to you."

The Other Doctor nodded. "For love to transcend death, it must go both ways."

"Why would I do that... inflict you upon her?" '_why not simply send her away instead'_ he considered in the quiet of his own mind.

The Other Doctor rung his hands nervously, the first gesture of unease he had presented. "Because I am inflicted on her whether she wants it or not, whether _you_ want it or not. She is the first face I see, your last thought. You know what that type of obsession can unleash in a Time Lord."

"And you think this will save your soul." The Doctor sighed, feeling defeated and disgusted at this creature he would become, that a part of him already was.

"I think it will stem the wound, cauterise the infection and prevent the spread of what I may yet become." The Other Doctor reasoned.

"A temporary measure then." The Doctor replied equally reasoned.

"Perhaps. But it will be temporary enough to save her. And who knows Doctor, perhaps even her memory would be enough to stay my hand in the future." The Other Doctor countered.

The Doctor let the ramifications soak through him, the arguments, reaching the same conclusion as his counterpart. To stop the Valeyard from becoming, to protect Clara, it was worth it, worth the inevitable heartbreak it would cause them both, because one thing seemed certain, _he _ was coming and soon.

"Then show me her. Now!"

The Doctor followed his counterpart into his TARDIS, his eyes scanning the new interface and seeing the fiercer elements of his personality emblazoned upon it. His hands smoothed along the railings. "Hello Old Girl." He whispered. "A darker shade indeed." He muttered to himself as the Other Doctor led him onwards deep into the bowls of the ship and further. He didn't comment on their descent, fearing the answer until he came to a stop outside a reinforced metal door that was deliberately disconnected from the TARDIS's own telepathic circuitry. 'Off plan' as they say.

The Doctor lifted his hands to the security measures surrounding the door, all keyed to his own biometrics.

"The Old Girl kept trying to free her." The Other Doctor admitted quietly. "I couldn't allow that. But she is persistent and has grown rather resentful of my continual resistance. Despite their rather unfriendly start, it would appear she has grown rather fond of Clara."

The Doctor pursed his lips, "You keep her locked away?" his voice was a low rumble of barely suppressed rage.

The Other Doctor didn't answer instead he pressed his hand to the scanner, before opening his eye and letting it scan and then gave the mental command to release the telepathic lock. The mechanical door hissed unsealing as it slid aside. "Yes I keep her locked away. Clara is far too dangerous to let loose on the Universe in her current state. She knows too much of us, our deepest secrets. Hate is a powerful thing Doctor." He cocked an eyebrow at him as if surprised at his foolishness, as if the Dalek's had clearly taught him nothing of the power of hate. "And she does hate us." He admitted quietly with clear regret as he stepped inside and ushered him in.

The Doctor hesitated.

The Other Doctor waited. "You insisted on seeing this Doctor." He reminded. "I personally think it would be the best that we un-write this entire time-line without even the memory of it left to corrupt us. But this is _your_ show." That Scottish lilt made it sound more threatening and the Doctor resisted the urge to turn around. Instead the Doctor steeled himself, he was a coward by nature. It had always been his way, running when things got too tough. Never even saying goodbye because he couldn't bare it. But as he stepped into the cell he would make for the companion he claimed to love, he felt every inch the monster he knew he could be.

There were no chains; he half imagined there would be. There were books strewn everywhere, most of them torn apart, the room in disarray. A simple bed with no bedding he noticed, just a mattress, nothing for her to harm herself with either he noted. But there were tell tale signs that the TARDIS was manipulating things inside this room, even if she couldn't effect it's door, clearly she was trying to look after his Impossible Girl.

The Doctor stepped deeper into the circular room, there was a transparent viewing window that looked out into the vastness of space, lending its shadows an eerie quality across the entire room. His eyes traced the outline of one such shadow, it was huddled in the corner, head buried in its knees; utterly naked beneath the holographic clothes that he had long been able to see through. Apparently she couldn't be trusted with actual clothing either and he wondered just how his Other self had come to that stark realisation... just like with the bedding.

"Clara." His voice caught and her head shot up, those huge brown doe like eyes of hers piercing him, red rimmed and so wild. He watched her fist clench as she stared not at him but at the man behind him. But there was a tremor to her body and he watched as she flinched as they moved forward. "Leave." The Doctor turned to his counterpart, practically spitting the instruction at the monstrosity of a man that dared to take his name. The Other Doctor sighed his eyes lingering on the girl who was watching his every move with careful, damaged eyes, right up until the moment he retreated sealing the door behind him.

The Doctor turned his attention back to the broken girl before him. "Clara." He whispered, hesitantly as he approached her slowly, those wounded eyes were tracking him now. "It's me." He dropped to his knees in front of her with quiet grace his lanky form wasn't usually capable of. "It's Chin Boy." He reminded her as he saw her eyes lift to examine his face.

There was a flicker of recognition that grew brighter as he stared back at her, "You left me." she whispered, her voice scratchy, he wondered if she'd damaged it screaming with futility into the walls of her prison cell.

"I'm sorry." He managed, blinking away tears, "I never meant to."

Her eyes were hard when they levelled on him now and he almost flinched back at the promised hatred he saw there. He longed to reach out and hold her, take her in his arms and fix all of this. "You left me to him." She accused.

"Clara he is..." he tried and she cut him off.

"He's you." She snarled. "Always you!"

The Doctor hung his head in shame. "Yes... he's me. A darker part of me has risen to the surface, the part of me I have spent a lifetime fighting." He lifted his head, wanting to see some flicker of the Clara he knew in the girl before him, but she had been carved into something new, something harsher and infinitely more fragile.

"He hurts me." She throws the words like the knives they are and he flinches as they hit. Her hands have clasped her knees tighter but her gaze is unforgiving on him; she lets that sink into his wretched features, absorbing with some satisfaction he notes at the bomb her words seem to detonate in his chest, "He forces his way into my mind." She elaborates and he tastes bile. "He's trying to re-write me. But there's too much of me, too many memories too many lives. It always unravels and I remember what he's done, what he _is_." The venom in her voice is real and painful.

It takes him a moment to gather his thoughts enough to speak, to calm his tone. "Clara I will fix this... I promise you. That's why I'm here, why _he's_ brought me here. To undo this."

Clara let out a dark chuckle. "Will you fix it _all_ Doctor, all the people he's hurt, the planets, the species he's left in ruin?" his eyes widen but she doesn't stop, her hand reaches out lightening quick and grasps his with surprising strength. "He doesn't kill them you know... not this Doctor, he likes to see their suffering long after his work is done. Just like with me." The Doctor squeezed her hand tightly, but she pulled it away as if burned by his touch. "He sits over there." She indicates an armchair with her eyes, "he doesn't speak, just watches me and admires the mess he's made."

"Clara." He tries and fails utterly to find something to say, something to excuse it, to give her hope. How can he ask her to have faith in him, when he is the cause of her suffering?

"He used to say he loves me." She doesn't quite meet his eyes now, staring at his bowtie instead. "He said it was your fault. That you were too afraid, too weak to act on it. He blames you for him." He waits for a question he is sure is coming. "Is it your fault?" The Doctor hesitated, sensing he wouldn't be able to lie to this version of Clara as he sometimes had to his own. "Did you drive him mad?"

"Yes, I believe so." It broke him to admit it, to acknowledge that his repressed feelings for this impossible girl may very well have been both their undoing.

There was a moment of silence before she launched herself at him with a shriek that was all nails and he grasped her wrists tightly, trying to deflect her blows, her clear instability giving her strength. But he didn't want to hurt her; it was almost a joke to say that, looking at the mess he'd wrought upon her. So he dropped her into his lap, pinning her back to his chest and wrapping his arms around her, holding her to his own body and willing sanity back into her.

"I'm sorry." He breathed, pressing a kiss to her hair as she sobbed quietly against him.

"Please just kill me." She pleaded, "Doctor please." She turned her head up to his, her eyes wide and desperate set in her still breathtakingly beautiful face, the feint trace of age reaching her features but nothing like he suspected he should be seeing there, her eyes held a lifetime of torment at his hands, a lifetime he had clearly taken steps to extend. The Doctor kept her arms pinned with one of his own, lifting his other hand to cradle her face, but her pleas hadn't stopped. "I can't bare this, please. The things he does, what he shows me inside my mind. He's going to destroy everything, I don't want to see it. I made him... I made them make him. It's my fault." She was sobbing wildly now, whispering secrets about things he'd yet to experience. "I'm sorry, so sorry." She begged, "Please just kill me."

The Doctor held her until she cried herself into exhaustion, the words 'my fault' a litany that had clearly been the source of her insanity, as her body drifted into blessed unconsciousness.

The Other Doctor stalked into the room then, his impassive cool eyes lingering on the sight of the two of them together, too slow to hide the flash of jealousy that fast became anger as he reached for her. The Doctor let him, after all the damage was done. The Other Doctor lifted her sleeping form so carefully into his arms the expression of clear adoration he wore as he carried her to the bed enough to make the Doctor want to punch him again. He laid her carefully upon the bare mattress, his hands feather-light across her face, brushing her hair aside until it was framing her features.

"My Clara." He whispered it like a promise as he kissed her forehead.

The Doctor had seen enough; he stalked from the cell, from the nightmare within and didn't stop until he was stepping out onto the chilly ground of the ice covered planet. Striding with purpose back to his own TARDIS, to his own future.

"I am inevitable." The Other Doctor called behind him and the Doctor spun, pointing his sonic at him threateningly until the Other stopped. "You can't prevent me from coming into being, if that's what you're planning."

The Doctor felt his lip curl. "No I imagine not. It would seem even Clara herself, addled as she has become, knows she is to blame for that particular twist of fate."

"A hand we force her to make." The Doctor shrugs. "Trenzalore is a fixed point Doctor. You die there. Something new is born, I am giving you the opportunity to help shape it."

"How can you ask me to help you, after what I've seen you do to her. I intend to take her far, far away from you and me. Block the coordinates out my mind. I will never inflict you on her. Not again!" The Doctor swore, stalking back to his ship with righteous anger fuelling new purpose.

"Without her there will be nothing to stop the Valeyard. He will be born in the fires of Trenzalore and the Universe will burn." The Doctor paused. "I am not him yet." His future self warned and he glanced back.

"But it's a close thing." The Doctor declared and the Other nodded his silver head in acknowledgement.

"Imagine it, the love for a single human girl standing between you and the Beast." The Other reminded him, the irony not lost on either of them.

"He will come." The Doctor reminded. "He always has."

The Other Doctor shrugged. "Time can be re-written."

"Not all of it."

"This can be." He promised. "I am proof of that. A half thing, neither Beast nor Doctor."

"And more monstrous because of it." The Doctor bit back, closing his eyes in an attempt to shut out the madness.

"Love her Doctor. Let her love you, truly. Or your inaction will give rise to me, and she will suffer. It is too late to undo your feelings for her after all."

"She will still be left to you." The Doctor couldn't accept that.

"And I will be able to fight what I am for her." He was so adamant, his desperation a living breathing thing that seeped into the Doctor, it seemed even in his darkness, despite his protestations at forgetting what it meant, he loved her still.

"For the love of a good woman." The Doctor shook his head, wondering if it could really be so simple, could Clara truly returning her love for him really change _this_?

"It is not so simple a thing to love a monster." The Other Doctor reminded him darkly, seemingly reading his mind and he acknowledged it with a firm nod turning his back on the man he would become if he did not alter the future.

"Spend Christmas with her Doctor." His future self called after him, "The Signal will wait."

The Doctor let the TARDIS doors slam shut behind him, sealing off that future as he approached the console, bowing his head and letting silent tears fall.

"Take me away from here." He instructed the ship, not caring where he went, so long as it wasn't here.

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><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE<strong>

How to solve a problem like the Valeyard...? It seemed the question had been filtered down to another he'd asked before, _'how to solve a problem like Clara?'_ It was a question he'd started some time ago and it seemed hadn't quite finished with.

But Clara was a unique problem, particularly given as the woman in question had only ever given him Wednesday's a fact which made him lament her absence once more. She never let herself get swept up into the madness that was his life permanently; had never given all of herself to him as his other Companions had. Instead she'd kept one foot firmly in her other life on Earth; not willing to trust him with it. Rightly so of course, he left them all in the end, she was merely being prudent. More so now that she knew every facet of him. He almost admired her forethought, if it didn't complicate matters for him, or make his loneliness more pronounced given as she... or at least her echo had seen fit to drag him from his peaceful solitude in the first place.

She liked him, certainly she fancied him, but did she feel anything deeper? Could she love him as other Companions had? He considered the notion, did she feel for him what he didn't want to admit to himself he felt for her? But there was no point denying it now, his future self had been crippled by his decisions to deny his baser instincts, or the effect of the young woman who had upended his life quite so completely since entering it. But it was a disturbing notion, to put himself in a position to risk it all with no real indication if it would be reciprocated. Her reaction to his future self, whilst understandable, was hardly encouraging. But he took comfort in the notion that Clara had clearly seen something in him worth sacrificing herself for not just once, but a thousand times over. Surely there was something there, something deeper. Because he was not entirely certain that he could convince Clara to love him, not in the way his future self would need, not with the limited time he had left, not unless there was already something more there.

Because he had of course detected the signal his future self spoke of, tracked it to its source and noted the assembled fleets around the small planet, its designation should have been a mystery. Perhaps it was to the rest, but the Doctor newly forewarned and fearing his end compared the constellations to those he'd been to so recently and retreated quietly without interfering, without becoming part of the time-line just yet. It seemed Trenzalore was waiting for him; the board was set, all but two pieces in place.

There was no doubt Clara would be there on Trenzalore, on the war ravaged planet he had seen with her to devastating effect. She had to be there it would seem if he was to survive it. Of course there was that option, to not survive it. If that even was an option, who was to say what would happen if she wasn't there? His future self had said his death and so his birth was fixed. But what he became... that could be shaped.

His phone rang. He would need to re-patch it through to the centre console at some point he noted with irritation as he yanked open the door and grasped the receiver. "Hello the TARDIS?"

Clara's voice was immediately recognisable if somewhat distressed. "Emergency! You're my boyfriend."

The Doctor froze, speechless. "I am?" he asked hesitantly wondering if the God's were smiling on him just this once.

"No, no you're not really my boyfriend." She explained but clearly her attention was elsewhere, there seemed to be a lot of clanking going on in the background.

"Then why did you...?" he started to ask.

"Because I need a boyfriend really quickly. For Christmas dinner, with me cooking, for my whole family." her words seemed to trip together the faster she spoke and he had to concentrate to take it in.

"I don't follow." He really didn't.

"I may have accidentally invented a boyfriend." She at least sounded contrite about it.

He smiled despite himself, it was soothing to his rattled nerves just to hear her sounding like herself again. He considered making a joke about accidentally inventing a boyfriend himself before, an android of course, but he reconsidered. _'Spend Christmas with her'_. That's what his future self had said.

"So I was the best boyfriend you could come up with?" he teased.

He heard her exasperated huff. "I just need you to come for Christmas dinner. Just do that for me. Come to Christmas dinner and be my Christmas date?" Her desperation was palpable, he wondered what he'd been doing previously that he hadn't taken the plea seriously enough to spend it with her, most likely something to do with ominous signal calling him to his doom.

"Ok."

"Ok as in you're coming?" she asked her breathless tone suggesting she was clearly dashing about and had obviously been expecting more resistance from him on the matter.

"Ok, as in I'm outside your flat. I'll be right up." He parked the Old Girl neatly on the grass.

"Thank you, thank you Doctor; you're saving my life right now." He winced at her choice of wording. "Oh and I don't suppose you know anything about cooking turkey's?"

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><p>She opened the door to him and he couldn't help but pull her into a tight hug that lifted her feet off the floor, delighting in the little laugh she gave him. "I missed you Clara Oswald." He breathed the words into her hair, pressing a kiss there.<p>

"Missed you too." She hugged him tightly back for a moment before he dropped her back to her feet and she beamed up at him. "Come and meet my family."

He followed, her hand grasped tightly in hers as she led him into the living room, which she had converted into a dining room for the occasion complete with a trifecta of family he hadn't before been aware of.

"Hello, so here he is." She introduced standing them at the end of the table, "This is the Doctor, _my boyfriend_." She said the last with a little too much determination, waiting for them to comment.

The Doctor smiled, aware of his inherent alienness in this moment and attempting to curb it for her sake. "Hello the Oswalds!" he smiled broadly when they didn't immediately respond. "Hello, Merry Christmas." He started shaking hands, pumping what he assumed to be her father's with enthusiasm, and pressing a kiss to the back of what he determined was likely the 'wicked stepmother' Linda who Clara had once mentioned in passing. "Hello, Hello." Gran stood to meet him and he kissed her cheeks delightedly.

"Oh my aren't you a tall handsome fella." Her Gran's sharp eyes lingered over him and he filed away the sight of her empty glass in hand for later.

"Doctor?" her father stood eyeing him warily, the Doctor almost wanted to wait for him to ask the inevitable 'who' question but he didn't seem to be indulging him on that and Clara' was shifting nervously.

"Smith." He added helpfully seeing Clara's rather panicked wide-eyed expression softening some. "We met once, on the phone, I said I was taking care of Clara when she'd fallen ill back when she was working for the Maitlands." Her father's expression brightened a little.

"Oh yes, George has mentioned you a couple of times, seems you and Clara have a regular Wednesday date night." Her father admitted a little begrudgingly and the Doctor smiled, dropping his arm around Clara's shoulder and pulling her just a little closer into him detecting just a hint of fatherly protectiveness.

"Incidentally a Doctor of what?" Linda questioned sipping her wine glass and eyeing the two of them, mostly him, suspiciously.

"Everything." He replied firmly, daring her to contradict him.

"He works for a scientific err... unit," Clara settled on, "of the Government. Pension, dental. All that." Clara smiled through her teeth, bending the truth just a tad he supposed, after all he did work technically for U.N.I.T on occasion. He dipped his hand into his pocket and flashed the psychic paper at Linda.

Her expression went from sour to something like a smile. "Oh I see. Head of the Scientific Division for Interstellar Exploration at the Ministry of Defence. Well isn't that lovely dear." She nudged Clara's father who looked like he'd swallowed something unpleasant and the Doctor recalled his rant about the Government, wishing he'd flashed the paper at him first instead.

"So, Doctor Smith... do you have a first name?" Her father asked not letting go of the point.

"Oh come on now Dad, it's Christmas, let's not grill the man, everyone just calls him Doctor."

The Doctor placed a calming hand palm down against Clara's back. "John."

"John Smith." Her father repeated disbelievingly.

"You asked." he smiled thinly back and he saw her father make a calculated deduction that probably wasn't in his favour.

"Would you excuse us just a moment I need to check on dinner, Doc... John, why don't you come give me a hand." Clara tugged him sharply by the hand into the kitchen closing the door firmly behind her and dropping her head into her hands for a moment whilst he approached the oven.

"Thank you, for that." She indicated apparently genuine in her thanks, back to her family behind the door, "You know how it can get with family at Christmas; sometimes it's all a little... overwhelming." She needlessly apologised.

The Doctor glanced back at her, "Not really no, my people don't celebrate it; although it is something I have become familiar with through my association with humans. But until very recently I've never had the inclination to participate in the day myself anything other than peripherally." He recalled one of the better ones he'd spent with the Ponds fondly.

Her mouth opened and closed for a moment and she crossed her arms over herself a little self-consciously. "Well, thank you for coming. It means a lot to me."

He nodded, turning back to the anaemic looking chicken in the oven. "Oh that's never going to work is it?"

"What's wrong? Do you think it's not done yet? She asked biting the index finger she'd rested against her bottom lip the way she did when she was nervous.

"I think a decent vet would give it an even chance." The Doctor muttered, smirking slightly at her apparent ineptitude to cook, well anything. It didn't seem to be limited to just her butchery of soufflés.

"Okay. Well, use an app." She gesticulated at him.

"An app?" he quirked an eyebrow at her.

"On your screwdriver. App it." She instructed looking at him like it wasn't a ridiculous suggestion.

"It's a screwdriver, it doesn't _do_ turkey." He sighed, reaching into his pocket for the item he'd retrieved when she'd mentioned bird trouble on the phone. He pulled out the three fairly innocuous looking metal balls and held them in the palm of his hand. "Fortunately these babies can cook anything to its optimum edible temperature in about 10 minutes or less." He popped open the oven and dropped them in, watching them take off and go whizzing about inside with satisfaction.

"Brilliant." Clara beamed clapping her hands together delightedly, she turned to him her expression turning calculating. "How are you with gravy?"

* * *

><p>Dinner went surprisingly well after that the Doctor noted to himself, as he polished off his third helping of turkey with gusto ignoring the looks he was getting for his trouble. Or maybe that was just the hats, he'd managed to win two in the cracker and had decided it was only polite to wear them both. So far he'd also only had to deflect one or two awkward questions about how he and Clara had met. 'Tech support' had been his glib response. 'I happened to be in the neighbourhood on my own business when I came across a young lady in distress, couldn't find her wifi... seemed ungentle-manly not to assist.'<p>

He'd even had a glass of wine, disgusting stuff but he felt it best to keep up an appearance. As far as he could tell Christmas seemed to be a time when family got together to needle at one another for all the little things that had wound them up throughout the year after copious amounts of alcohol. Linda for example reminded him distinctly of Donna's mother... a far too critical and generally unpleasant woman. But then Clara hadn't so far as he had seen, treated the woman with an iota of motherly affection, so he imagined she was unlikely to receive any in return. Which given what he knew of Clara's affectionate nature made him more openly suspicious of this woman that had stepped into 'care' for his Companion.

As the meal finished the Christmas pudding came out, which he delighted in tipping yet more alcohol over and lighting with a flourish, before excusing himself from the pudding of course and just accepted the custard. He gave Clara a hopeful look and she inclined her head to the kitchen, muttering 'I defrosted them earlier for you' beneath her breath and plastering a smile on her face for her family, trying to pretend that he wasn't a mad man. He had the sense at least to stay in the kitchen whilst he dunked his still piping hot fish fingers into his big bowl of custard, not surprised in the least when Clara entered closing the door firmly but offering him a smile that seemed to declare him fondly ridiculous.

"Still hungry after all that turkey?" she crossed to him sniffing his bowl, her nose wrinkling in distaste.

"Not really, but you can't have custard without fish fingers... that would just be weird." He replied with a smile for her as he offered her a freshly dunked finger. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking a bite; in her favour she did try it at least offering him a polite smile and then just as politely spitting it out into the nearest napkin.

"That is disgusting" she admitted grabbing a glass of water and attempting to cleanse her pallet. He shrugged unbothered by her aversion.

"So what happens next at a family Christmas?" he pressed genuinely curious and she gave him a look he wasn't quite sure how to decipher, she seemed to be expecting him to mock her. When his expression didn't alter from open and patient she visibly softened.

"Oh, well we usually sit around and watch the telly, play a board game maybe, drink a little too much, eat more chocolate. Then they leave and I clean up and collapse into bed." She smiled at his expression which was at best tolerable he imagined. "You don't have to stay." She offered gently, reaching out to touch his arm, "You've already gone above and beyond for a friend in need." She admitted and he ducked his head, nodding firmly and placing the now empty bowl on the counter top.

"I'd like to." He replied. "Stay that is." He placed his hand over hers, brushing the back of the delicate skin there, he lifted his eyes to hers. "If that's ok with you?"

She seemed to startle for a moment and he kept the full intensity of his gaze on her. "Yes." She stammered slightly over the simple word. "Of course it is." Her smile turned megawatt which only deepened her dimples, he felt a moment of guilt for manipulating this situation, for taking this step for the both of them, it seemed somehow... un-gentlemanly not to have given her fair warning that he was changing the parameters of their relationship. But the memory of her, huddled in the corner of a cell in his TARDIS, her eyes pools of madness pressed and the shadow of the smile on the lips of the monster that had put her there. It gave him resolve.

"Good." He took her hand leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth that lingered just a fraction too long to be idle, he pulled back seeing her eyes widen in mild but not unpleasant surprise he noted; after all it was the type of kiss she had given him before. "Best get back to them then, before they start to think I've taken you into the kitchen to ravage you." With his grip on her skin he could detect the flutter in her pulse and the slight blush that crept up to her cheek, matched with her sudden inability to meet his eyes. He congratulated himself inwardly, apparently even in this body he could still have an effect and evidently she wasn't as indifferent to him as he'd feared.

The Doctor sank back into the sofa, due to the sheer lack of space with the other family members on it, it had been perfectly natural to tug Clara as close into his body as possible, so that she was now tucked gently into his arm. A manoeuvre she hadn't commented on, or attempted to move from, not even when he'd dropped a hand onto her leg and which was now, quite apart from his conscious thoughts, stroking idle patterns as she laughed lightly at the comedy show on TV that her family had unanimously decided needed to go on. Something about a transvestite Irish lady with more sons than sense, but he supposed it was amusing enough. He'd of course demolished them all at the board games earlier, Cludo had taken him about ten minutes to deduce the killer, although he rather failed to see how bankrupting your family members in a game of Monopoly was supposed to increase harmony.

I fact it wasn't long at all before he was heartily shaking her father's hand, accepting a bony hug from her Gran, a brief air kiss with Linda and wishing them a safe trip as the taxi pulled up to take them home. He wondered if Clara half expected him to take his leave too, she seemed to be waiting for him to dismiss himself, instead he grasped her hand gently and led her back up the stairs to the apartment. He often played the fool, but he was more than adept and noticing and understanding people's emotional states, however well they were hiding them and he couldn't help but notice she was suddenly and inexplicably nervous as she closed the door behind him and he moved to start collecting up the crockery from dinner. So much so that she stood watching him from the doorway.

"Doctor, what are you doing?" she asked gently.

He glanced back offering her a smile. "Clearing up, wasn't that what you said was next on the agenda. Hardly seems fair that you have to do that by yourself. It is still Christmas after all." He continued piling up all the plates, swooping into the kitchen and started filling the sink with warm water.

They worked quietly together, him washing her drying, then her attempting to stop him alphabetising her kitchen cabinets as he lamented her lack of order. The Doctor stood arms crossed soaking in the contented feeling that had been growing inside of him all day as he leant against the kitchen counter watching her as she safely put away the last glass and turned to face him. That nervous energy was back he noted. He checked his watch. "9 o'clock, seems a little early for bed." He reminded her of her aforementioned schedule and she fiddled with the rings on her fingers.

"Shouldn't you be getting back to the TARDIS Doctor, won't she get jealous if you don't at least spend some of Christmas with her?" She teased and he smiled back at her.

"She's a big girl, I'm sure she'll manage just fine." He pushed off the counter and approached her. Perhaps it was the strange situation, him being in her home, Christmas time, them not being in some life and death situation; but he could feel the tension radiating off her, which didn't usually happen with this level of intensity when they were alone... ok well sometimes it did but more from him, not her. Or perhaps she was just responding to him, picking up on the signals he was no doubt giving out as he tested his self imposed boundaries with her.

"You seem nervous Clara. If I'm making you uncomfortable I can leave." He offered reaching out and touching her hand, drawing it up to his stomach, where he refused to relinquish it.

She shook her head as if dismissing the ridiculous notion. "No, no, of course you're not I'm fine. I guess I just, well I didn't expect you to play the boyfriend role quite so well." She admitted and he smirked, wondering how her family had interpreted what had become perfectly normal if somewhat frequent touches they gave each other, or the way he felt the need to kiss her forehead, her temple, her hands. He'd noticed her becoming hyper aware of it, jumping slightly when his hand had slid around her waist as he'd tucked her into his side as they watched TV together resting his head on hers.

"I wasn't aware I'd treated you any differently?" He could hear the playfulness in his own voice and let his eyes linger on her lips, wondering if she would really let him kiss her if he tried. He'd managed to trap her against the work surface he realised, crowding her personal space.

"Doctor?" Her voice was soft, hesitant as she looked up at him through her lashes, most likely completely unaware of the effect such a look could have on a man... on him. "Is everything ok, you've been a little _different_ today?" she pressed clearly looking for an honest answer.

"Different how?" he didn't take his eyes off her, waiting, wondering how intuitive she really was.

"A little... intense." Her voice had dropped to an almost whisper as she seemed to take in the situation afresh, of his position and hers.

He considered being evasive, but he sensed that would shut her down. Perhaps now was the time for honesty, his future self had urged him to be truthful with her, to let it out, to risk himself. "I have." He acknowledged. "I suppose you could say I had a wakeup call." He admitted, his hand dropping to her waist, resting their lightly with her hand still entrapped in his own held against his hearts which had begun to beat rather more quickly.

"I'm sorry." She murmured, "Do you want to talk about it?"

He almost chuckled, hearing her hesitance, always so careful, so guarded with him. "It's you." He admitted and she took in a small breath.

"Oh." She managed, dropping his gaze.

"I've been unfair to you." He continued and she looked up, her lower lip trembling slightly. "For a long time I treated you like a puzzle to solve, an enigma, I let the obsession I had with finding out _what_ you were prevent me from seeing _who_ you were."

"It's ok Doctor." She shrugged, pulling her hand from his and turning leaving her back to him whilst her head dropped slightly and he sighed. "I get it Doctor, now you've solved me there's no reason to keep me around. It's ok, I knew it would happen sooner or later. You have to keep moving it's who you are." Her avoiding expression as she gave him the back of her head masked the clear hurt at what she assumed was his rejection, whether she'd clearly been expecting it or not.

The Doctor felt irritation stab at him, for his own inadequacies, for her damn ability to see through him every other time, except right now when it mattered. He closed the distance between them, pressing his chest into her back and sliding his arms around her waist, holding her firm and letting her feel just what she did to him, however hard he fought it, even with his superior grasp on his peripheral blood flow. Her shocked breath as she stood bolt upright suggested she got the message.

"Doctor... what?" she asked and he dropped his lips to her ear silencing her question and drawing an altogether different sound of surprise from her throat.

"I don't want you to leave me, far from it. But this dance we've been doing, it needs to change. I blame myself of course for letting it go on this long." He sighed, dropping his head onto hers and pulling her as close as he could manage into his chest, his arms enveloping her. "I've hidden behind the idea that I couldn't trust the Impossible Girl that had landed in my life... you were perfect you see?" It was a risk he knew letting her so far into his thoughts but he needed her to understand the depth of his deception. "Perfect in every way for me," he clarified, "smart, funny, brave, kind, so beautiful." He felt her go unnaturally still against him, her breath held. "Too perfect." He rasped and he felt her stillness give way to a tremble as he let his hands begin to trace along her stomach and up her ribcage. "Given all that can you blame me for being so certain you were a trap?" He admitted pressing a kiss to her temple. "Did I ever tell you how long I spent in that monastery in the 12th Century, pondering you?"

"No, you didn't." Her voice had a strange pitch to it and he smiled against her cheek realising he was rocking them slightly, his hands still stroking lightly down her arms, that wouldn't change he realised with a small start of disquiet, his need to touch her... his future face had clearly felt that desire as keenly as he ever had.

"Almost a decade." He whispered and she remained silent, clearly not wanting to risk him clamming up on her, "Not long perhaps by Time Lord standards, but long enough I assure you to fuel an obsession. Certainly longer than I have ever spent considering a single individual, human or otherwise." He lifted his hands taking the opportunity to cradle her face with them as she finally turned to look up at him. "And then you sacrificed yourself for me and I knew; knew I had been a foolish old man because you were never a trap," he dropped a gentle kiss to her forehead "You were always my salvation."

She was staring up at him without a word, but he could practically hear the questions buzzing through her skull, those inquisitive, expressive eyes of hers scanning his face for a hint of deception, or perhaps just trying to understand why he'd chosen now to confess. But there was definite conflict there, she was clearly torn between giving in to him and running from him. "I want you." He told her boldly, "But you know that," He brushed her cheeks with his thumbs, leaning in close enough that they were sharing one breath, "But do you know that it is so much more than a physical infatuation?" he brushed his lips across her cheek, feeling a feint trembling from her. "Deeper even than need." He confessed on dangerous territory now, not surprised when she didn't comment, clearly waiting for him to make the final move.

"Clara," he rasped, "Tell me that you feel nothing for me and we can forget all about this, go back to just being Companions sharing a grand adventure." As she hesitated he felt his stomach churn and his hearts pound dangerously, he hadn't realised until this moment just quite what her rejection might do to him, hadn't considered she truly might, not now he had finally realised how badly he wanted her like this, wanted her to want him.

Finally a small hesitant smile crept across her face, "Wasn't I the one that asked you to be my boyfriend?" she whispered back, then she lifted herself up carefully onto her tiptoes and with her eyes on his brushed her lips feather light over his, before pulling back to see his reaction.

He smirked, eyes sparking with mischief, "You asked me to _pretend_ to be your boyfriend." He lowered his lips to her throat pressing an almost kiss just beneath her ear and inhaling the scent of her that he found perfectly tantalising.

Her hand caught his cheek, drawing his face back up until their noses touched. "So make me believe it."

Perhaps he smiled, he didn't remember, all he recalled was pressing his mouth against hers and hearing her gasp of surprise as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up onto the countertop. There was no flailing, no nervous gestures as he stepped between her legs, wrapping them around his hips firmly and sliding his tongue into her welcoming mouth. He knew he was moving quickly given that this was technically the first kiss they'd shared. Frantic even as his hands pulled her closer still, their lips duelling furiously but he wasn't willing to allow an inch of air between them for fear she'd reconsider as a year of pent up emotions on her part and near a decade on his spilled out.

She pulled back and he felt the loss of her warmth against him keenly, even as he admired the way her lips had swollen just a fraction with his efforts. "Don't you think this is a little fast?" Her hands were splayed lightly on his chest. It was exactly the argument he had feared, because he wasn't sure he could slow down, his blood was roaring through his ears and rapidly heading south. Time Lords never were good at impulse control, or restraining their urges, which was probably why his civilisation had doomed itself into extinction... and why he'd pushed the big red doomsday button on them, or hadn't as the case may have turned out.

"Well." He pressed, kissing her cheeks and her lips gently. "I have been your boyfriend for going on a year now if you believe what Angie and Artie have been saying. I'd say I've been the picture of patience."

Clara clearly had no argument for that, or didn't want to one and he took advantage of her distraction capturing her throat with his mouth, absorbing the feel and the timbre of the chuckle that reverberated through her throat.

"Like you have ever been patient." She hissed as his teeth worried her skin and her hand rose to his cheek, drawing his mouth back to hers. His superior senses let him feel every inch of her skin that brushed his, every strand of her hair as it ran through his fingers; every brush of her tongue against his. Perhaps she was right he never had been the most patient, because he couldn't help but push himself against her centre his own groan as wanton as hers as she pressed back, her legs tightening reflexively around him as she clutched the back of his head holding him to her.

His hands rose to her covered breasts grasping them firmly and she arched her back into his touch, her lips falling to his jaw in distraction. But her hands were beneath his jacket tugging it down his arms and tossing it aside as she pushed down the braces, eager now it seemed to move this a step forward. His shirt went next and he felt goose bumps rise along his back as he was exposed to the slightly cooler air. They paused, her eyes lingering over the flesh she had revealed and darkened from the usual honey tone to a midnight black as her pupils dilated. If he had been in any doubt that she wanted him, that she reciprocated then she erased it now as she reached down and moved to lift her cardigan over her head. He stilled her hands, tracing over the bow tie shapes knitted into it that he couldn't help but notice the moment he'd seen her.

"For me?" he asked quietly, raising a hand to her cheek and seeing the slight blush which given the circumstance was frankly endearing, as she nodded. He smirked and undid each button carefully, his hands lingering as he placed the item gently on the counter behind her, he intended for her to wear that particular article again. The simple white shirt he took as much care with as it slid down her arms, exposing the creamy expanse of her skin and the lace white bra beneath. But it was the skirt he admired most, he ran his hand along her covered thighs, sliding them beneath the red tartan number and listening to every hitch in her breath as he touched her everywhere but where she wanted. "You and your skirts." He admitted, kissing her hard as he swept his fingers between her legs and she cried out lightly into his mouth. She'd always tormented him with her little skirts and those dresses; he figured she was in for a little tormenting of her own.

His hands slid higher and he found the waistband of her tights, he grasped her around the middle lifting her nearly non-existent weight against him as he slid them over the perfect curve of her ass, taking his time to fondle those same firm curves as he went. Every inch of skin he exposed was like a new chapter in the most exquisite book and he chased the skin with his touch, until he had divested her of them and her underwear entirely. He took a moment as he slid to his knees to stare up at her, perched atop the counter in her own kitchen, her legs apart, her hair tousled, her lips bee-stung and her breathing thready as she looked at him through her dark hooded gaze, clad only in her bra and skirt. "Perfect." He whispered before he dropped his head between her legs and found something else as equally perfect.

The sounds she made as he stroked and licked her to orgasm he made sure were filed away in his memory for safe keeping as she trembled against him, the small flutters of her against his lips telling him if her cries hadn't, that he had tormented her long enough. He rose to his feet, his own hands deftly making short work of his trousers, he never had seen the need for underwear himself as he stood between her legs, letting his erection slide along her thigh. She kissed him, drawing his mouth down to hers and his hands around her, until he'd freed her from the lace bra. The skirt he so admired stayed on he noted as her legs tugged him closer, her hips arching towards him. He dropped one hand to her back using it to guide her as the tip of him brushed her centre, his other hand caught her face running his thumb along her bottom lip. "My Clara." He told her fiercely in his own form of endearment, as he thrust hard into her tight heat drawing a cry of surprise from her.

She clutched him tightly and he stilled, giving her a moment to accommodate him as he found her neck again, unable to resist sucking the flesh there hard enough to leave a mark he would be able to claim as his own.

"You won't break me you know." She teased when he still hadn't moved, her hand tangling in his over long hair with just a hint of a tug. He took that as permission and dropped his hands to her hips, pulling out far enough that he could thrust back in using one long powerful movement that had her gasping in wide eyed surprise. Perhaps she hadn't expected him to have any skill at all at this, given as he'd made no indication prior to this that he was anything other than a prudish man-child he supposed he could forgive her that. But he didn't ease up, thrusting as hard and as deep as he dared into her as she made ever more incoherent sounds against him, which he dutifully caught with his mouth; he wanted to freeze the moment his name 'Doctor' tumbled from her lips again and again as she clung to him. He pistoned his hips feverishly into her as he cried out his own release, collapsing against her and burying his head in her neck whilst he simply listened to their laboured breathing and the sound of her heart beating rapidly against his pair.

There was no going back of course. For better or worse he had changed their relationship, let her in to that corner of his heart he'd long ago walled off for fear of what it would bring. Or _who_ as it turned out. Thoughts of what he'd let happen to her, what _he_ had done, turned his thoughts dark and he captured her mouth firmly letting every emotion good and bad, bleed into her. It seemed improbable that he could find his need for her building again so soon, but it was undeniable as he stiffened inside of her. She pulled back giving him an incredulous look that he ignored, the kitchen counter would never do... not again. He pulled out of her with regret and seeing the slight look of disappointment on her face he swept her into his arms. "Bedroom?" he queried and she smirked, pointing the way.

"So eager." She nibbled on his ear lobe.

He closed his eyes, the feel of her teeth sending a shiver down his spine. "Oh you have no idea." He murmured finding her bedroom and quite deliberately enjoying the symbolism as he carried her over the threshold. Perhaps there was reason yet behind the madness of his future self, because he couldn't conceive of reducing the girl in his arms to a broken shell. He would lay down in front of a Dalek fleet in fact to stop it. But then he supposed that was rather the point his future self had been making when he sent him back here to change this particular day.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

He was insatiable, it was the conclusion Clara came to as she clutched her hair, back arching as she tried to contain her scream as his fingers tormented her. He didn't seem to be able to relinquish an inch of her skin, which given as a few hours ago she'd had no idea he had any thoughts about her or her skin one way or the other was something of a pleasant surprise.

Her scream tore free with a strangled sound and he collapsed onto the bed beside her, grinning from ear to ear as he placed a possessive hand across her stomach whilst she tried to calm her breathing. She wanted to wipe the smug look off his face but she figured he'd earned it so she simply leant over and kissed him. Pulling away before he took the chance to deepen it again as she settled into the crook of his arm, feeling exhausted down to her bones, her whole body still trembling faintly against him.

She didn't know where today had come from, or what had prompted his sudden decision to express feelings he'd apparently been harbouring for her for some time, but she was far too pleased he had. After all she had never kept her attraction to him all that subtle. But then neither had he, despite his beliefs. No one who felt entirely platonic towards the woman they had dragged into their 'snogbox' felt the need to touch her constantly. In hindsight perhaps he always had been more than a little obsessed with her skin.

"So." She sighed, placing a palm over his surprisingly hairless chest and feeling the unusual, somewhat unnerving reminder of his alienness, as his tripping double heart beat pulsed beneath her fingers.

His fingers ghosted through her hair. "I may have been overly enthusiastic." He smirked not in the least bit apologetic for the state they were both in.

She smiled kissing his chest as she glanced up at him, surprised at just how content he looked, how still... the Doctor was never still. "I think you were just the right level of enthusiastic." She confessed.

He chuckled. "Good to know my efforts are appreciated."

"Very much." She closed her eyes, feeling his arms wrap tightly around her and pull her against his warmth. There were questions of course, '_what happens next?' 'why now?' 'what can we possibly be to one another?' 'was this just a onetime thing?' 'had they ruined it all?'_ but she rather imagined that he'd purposely left her too far beyond exhausted to care about them in this moment.

"Sleep." He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Will you be here in the morning?" she asked keeping her eyes firmly closed.

"Nowhere else I'd rather be." He replied quietly and she accepted it for now, letting her tired body drift quickly into a deep sleep, filled with the sound of his tripping double heart beat.

Clara didn't expect to awake to find him sleeping. Staring at her perhaps, or redecorating her flat, maximising the photosynthesis in the local park, constructing a temporal telegraph out of her toaster maybe... but not simply sleeping. He was still holding her she realised feeling a strange thrill as she looked over her shoulder and found him there, she hadn't expected to see his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, his fingers splayed across her stomach, legs entwined. So she took the rather unique opportunity presented to her and studied him still like this, the sunlight was just starting to brighten behind the dark curtains and she could see his features clearly. Alien was quite possibly a word invented just to describe the man in her bed. A mass of contradictions, and yet like this, apart from that heartbeat of his, he seemed utterly unremarkable. His body bore no scars of the endless conflicts she knew he had seen, his skin no wrinkles of the immeasurable time he had spanned. His face wasn't even particularly handsome, in fact it sat somewhere just on the border of odd; but there was character to it, something beguiling that invited you to look again, to draw you in, something she found utterly irresistible. That was the biggest lie of all of course, his face... because it wasn't really his at all; and yet somehow it was always unmistakably him.

There was a hesitation in his breath and she smiled warmly, knowing he was awake. "See something you like?" his corny comment made her cringe, but he didn't even bother opening his eyes just smiled knowing she was watching and leaving her relieved that his flirtatious tone hadn't vanished overnight. Knowing now how quite in tune he could be with her emotional state she reasoned he'd probably done that on purpose to reassure her.

"I'll let you know." She replied rolling over and snuggling closer to him as she buried her head in the crook of his neck and tried not to think about what the day might bring.

"I don't think I've been this still in a long time." He spoke quietly, as if it was a secret whispered into her skin. Clara sighed and laced her fingers with his, admiring the fit and doing the one thing she'd promised herself just about a thousand times that she wouldn't... falling in love. Cliché she knew. But last night he had certainly surprised her, although she didn't know why that would be, he was good at everything, except maybe dressing himself, why would sex be any different? If she was slightly besotted with him before she didn't dare evaluate the feelings running rampant through her now as he passed the morning-after test with flying colours. "You have a way of calming my thoughts." He admitted and she glanced up to find him staring intently at her ceiling. "Well..." he smirked, stroking quite deliberately across her bottom. "Focusing them at any rate." She chuckled and closed her eyes.

She had just started to drift off when he spoke again, "Something dark is coming Clara." She didn't outwardly respond but she was suddenly quite awake, that tone never did bode well.

"How do you know?" she asked when he didn't offer anything more.

He sighed, that weary sound of a man who had seen too much of life and found it wanting. "I found Trenzalore." He admitted. "At the proper point this time around."

"I don't understand...?" she hesitated, she'd thought the threat of Trenzalore was done, but of course he would still die there. Realisation trickled in, how were you supposed to react when the man you've just decided it might be ok to fall in love with, even just a little bit, tells you he's most likely about to die.

She imagined the slap she landed on his chest was justified as she shot up to glare soundly at him. "So your wakeup call was imminent death! That's all it took for you to confess your feelings for me?" her tone had taken on a distinctly waspish quality that she didn't like to hear but couldn't stop.

He hadn't attempted to move, just lay there impassively staring up at her, accepting her ire apparently. "I didn't want to die with all of this unsaid." He shrugged. "I'm a coward Clara, sometimes it takes a push for me to fight the instinct to run that I've been obeying all my life."

"What about me?" she pressed feeling something stick in her throat painfully. "How am I supposed to go on after this?" She indicated the two of them lying together like this.

"What if I said Trenzalore wasn't the end... not truly. Not yet." It was cryptic, but she failed to see how that could happen, he had to die on Trenzalore, they'd seen it.

"You'd regenerate?" Clara asked confused.

"I believe so, not quite sure how yet, this should be my last face but I had an interesting meeting which has led me to believe I will somehow leave Trenzalore changed... but alive."

Her mind picking up on what he'd said before, "You said something dark was coming?"

"He is." The Doctor replied letting the ominous connotations of that sink in.

"You're next face?" she asked uneasily seeing his expression darken further as he sat up, propping himself against the headboard and holding out his hands for her, she hesitated for a moment before taking them. He tugged her forward into his arms, leaving her little choice but to slide onto his lap where his hands instantly went to her hips letting her knees fall either side of him in a somewhat dangerous pose which was clearly intentional on his part, given as they were both still entirely naked.

"You'll be there on Trenzalore." He admitted and Clara nodded, raising her hands to his cheeks.

"Of course I will." She promised.

"It wasn't a question, it was a statement." He corrected, grasping her hand and removing them from his face to hold them pressed tightly to his lips. "You'll survive it." He looked grim, "But the me that follows..." his eyes shone momentarily and she wondered if he was close to tears. "I need to make sure you'll survive him."

Clara narrowed her eyes, she'd seen enough of this man's guilty conscience to last a lifetime, he never could seem to accept that he wasn't the monster he thought he was, not _just_ anyway. "Don't be ridiculous, he'll be you, it's always you. However buried, or different, or mad, he'll still be you." The 'you wouldn't hurt me' seemed redundant so she didn't say it, not least because it wasn't always true, certainly she didn't think he would ever deliberately set out to hurt her, but he'd more than likely put her in harm's way, because that was just his life.

"What if he's not?" He asked her firmly, his green eyes boring into hers and making her doubt her resolve for a moment, but he captured her lips before she could finish the spiralling thought, his hands sliding along her back crushing her breasts between them.

"Doctor?" she managed to get out around his mouth, but he was insistent on stopping this conversation it seemed and she wondered just what it was he'd seen to have gotten him so riled. His fingers slid between them and rubbed her gently, it was an effective distraction as she lost mostly coherent thought as he slid a questing digit into her with purpose. If he had wanted to draw it out last night he was certainly in more of a hurry this morning, she felt the pressure of an orgasm building as she held him tightly against her, surrendering her breasts to his mouth when he abruptly withdrew his fingers leaving her bereft and all but reeling before he grasped her hips firmly, in one swift move he was buried inside of her and she came violently around him with the sudden shock of it. He laughed lightly, the sound comforting as she tried not to collapse over him. His hands guided her hips deftly from where she sat straddling him, finding a rhythm for her that she could take over, lifting herself enough so that he was sliding almost completely out of her with each roll of her hips against him. One of his hands lifted to cradle her face, forcing her eyes on to his.

"I want you to remember this." He hissed, gritting his teeth in determination to hold himself back as she rippled her inner muscles tauntingly. "Remember how much I want you," he kissed her hard, in an instant flipping them so that he had her back pressed against the bed and he was the one rolling his hips into her. "How much I need you." He added his lips taking hers as words deserted him.

"Doctor." She whispered her head thrown back and her body arching beneath him, his mouth took the invitation as he latched onto the column of her throat with his mouth, sucking hard as his tongue flicked out, tasting her, biting until he marked her she realised, she wondered what she tasted like to a pallet that found fish fingers and custard delectable. His tongue found her nipples and he swirled them delicately, stealing conscious thought as his teeth gently teased until she could feel her inner walls beginning to ripple around him in delicious contractions as the wave of yet another orgasm passed over her. She didn't know what it was that possessed him in that moment but as her wide eyes still riding the pleasure he had driven her too found his, she felt his forehead connect gently with hers and those eyes seared straight into her soul. Her mind parted for him as easily as her legs had and she bucked at the sensation, feeling the pleasure still coursing through her growing and swelling as his thoughts latched onto it, found the areas of her mind creating it.

His own thoughts swirled through hers, his desires mixing until they become a torrent inside of her and she was left screaming his name desperately her body on fire her mind ablaze with desire as she came again and again, losing track of his hips as they drove into her his pleasure becoming her own and she became aware of the sound of her fragile human heart thumping wildly in her ears as she fought to process the overload.

There was a clear instruction in her mind and her eyes opened onto his, as he raised his hand to her face. "You see what you do to me?" He breathed in disbelief as he emptied himself into her with abandon, keeping her in the moment as her mind all but railed at the sensations he bore, his feelings for her. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she blacked out in his arms.

Slowly her breathing calmed, her heart rate slowed as she became aware again and she blinked, once, twice, her dark eyes opening onto his as he pulled her onto his lap, holding her in the comfort of his arms.

"Are you ok?" he whispered against her temple as her body responded to his barest touch and aftershocks continued to race through her, leaving her trembling against him.

"Will be." She breathed surprised to find her voice at all as she clutched at his hand and dropped her head into the crook of his shoulder, pleased to feel his heartbeats were as erratic as hers. "I know I asked you to show me the stars Chin Boy... but warn a girl first." He was smirking she was certain of it as she raised her eyes to his, seeing a hint of sadness there which seemed wholly out of place.

"That was Oswin." He reminded her gently and she closed her eyes, dropping her head back to his chest with a sigh.

"Same difference." She offered quietly.

"I didn't hurt you did I." He asked, sounding alarmed that she had clearly passed out.

"No, of course you didn't." she reached up brushing his cheek trying to reassure him, before sighing and closing her eyes her limbs still like jelly. "I've just never experienced anything quite that _intense_ before... so that was Time Lord sex huh?" She laughed lightly, "Wow."

He was smiling against her skin, she could tell as he kissed her shoulder. "Well it is something of a cheat I suppose to directly manipulate the pleasure centres of your mind and then link it to my own... but for some reason no one ever seems to complain about it."

"Smuggness is not an attractive quality." She muttered, feeling his arms tighten around her as he drew her body more comfortably against his side. Then he fell quiet for some time, she wondered if he was just giving her time, but more likely his mind was whirring; which seemed to be answered by his next question.

"You remember things about Oswin and the others?" He asked hesitantly and she sighed, he was always a little uncomfortable when she accidentally said something or referred to something one of her Echo's had done as if it was her own life.

"Sometimes." She settled on ambiguity.

He nodded, his fingers rising to brush through her hair, his next question seemed much more cautious when he finally asked it. "Do you remember much of your life, lives I suppose, as a Time Lady?"

Clara considered his question as he brushed the hair from her face, his curious stare enough to force her into the recesses of her mind. "Like I said, sometimes." She shrugged getting a jumble of images and feelings for her trouble, clearly her answer wasn't quite what he'd hoped for if his disappointed expression was anything to go by, clearly he thought she was being evasive and she didn't want to ruin the moment so she delved a little deeper, trying to vocalise the confusion. "If I am focused on something specific, like a memory it becomes easier, the memories flow, they become more than just another woman's they start to be mine; but it usually needs a trigger of some sort to allow me to reach the memory in the first place."

He nodded, "Impossible Girl." He whispered, kissing the end of her nose the adoration in his eyes she didn't think she was imagining. "Do you remember then, across all of your memories what it means to be the first face a freshly regenerated Time Lord see's... and the last?"

His question frightened her as half forgotten memories tumbled over themselves to present her with a notion. "Imprinting." Was the word her addled brain came up with and he nodded seemingly pleased with that.

"Yes. Think of it like a fingerprint left all over the psyche of the regenerating Time Lord's mind. If that face is combined with strong memories, feelings from the predecessor then it becomes their touchstone, their anchor to life itself. The Time Lord way of ensuring mate bonds survive the regeneration process."

Clara blinked. Mating. She was mating with an alien, it did sort of put it into perspective when he called it that, but she started dimly to identify where he might be going with this. "So if you die... feeling something for me, your successor will too?"

"My feelings for you would never simply be gone," he tutted at her as if it was ridiculous to suggest the alternative. "But in instances like that, my successor won't just feel them, he will be consumed by them, it will become his very reason for existence, you will be central to his entire being. And with regeneration energy coursing through him it will modify him to be exactly what he believes will keep you at his side."

It was a heady thought, and something of a responsibility she imagined, the mere thought of you shaping the man he would become. "Has it happened before, with a Companion I mean?"

He smiled sadly. "Once, her name was Rose. My Ninth self died saving her, but my Tenth self would and did move heaven and Earth for her. She became lost to him though," he sighed, "to me." He acknowledged "And I became a bitter, lost old man convinced he had the right to make the Universe dance to his tune. I made some terrible mistakes in my anger."

"I'm sorry." She attempted to console him, twinning her fingers with his above his hearts.

"Not your fault." He sighed wrapping his arms around her more firmly. "I never got to hold her like this," he admitted, stroking her skin, "Or kiss her properly, tell her how I felt, or even say good bye." He added quietly, "I think I loved the idea of her, what she represented, the bond making it impossible to see reason where she was concerned." He kissed her hair. "But I don't think the two of you would have gotten along." He added and Clara glanced up at him, frowning, "She was the jealous type." He commented, "But also brave, funny, curious, awed by just about everything I showed her, street smart I suppose, desperate to flee a life she that was choking the light out of her." He added as if an afterthought. "All of that the Ninth passed on in the imprint to his successor but you see to him she had been salvation, so Ten, he kept on thinking she would be his..."

"What are you saying?" she whispered, more than a little unnerved now.

"I am already more than a little in love with you Clara, me myself, no regeneration influences at all. Can you imagine what I am going to pass on to my successor, the imprint you will make in his mind, the bond he will seek to forge?"

She swallowed nervously. "You've seen him, haven't you?" she asked unsure if he would answer.

His fingers threaded through hers. "I saw a possible version of him." He conceded.

"And?" she pressed not able to keep the tension, despite her near exhausted state, from bleeding through; all this talk of him dying was hardly romantic pillow talk; or of his ex-loves for that matter and they hadn't even broached the topic of his dead wife.

"And I have taken steps to ensure he doesn't become again." His words were final and Clara considered what he'd told her when she'd asked what had bought all this on the night before... on Christmas day. He'd called it a wakeup call; apparently his future self had driven him desperately almost feverishly into her arms and her bed. It made her even less sure she wanted to meet this future self than she was now, which was saying something because the thought of losing this version of him, chin and all, seemed unbearable.

If in doubt, deflection always worked well. "Your snogbox won't be pleased if you keep throwing the 'L' word around." Clara murmured smiling at his snort; letting him know she hadn't missed his declaration mostly backhanded as it had been.

"Nonsense, the Old Girl adores you now your paradox is all resolved." His arms tightened reflexively, but the joviality seemed to bleed out of him a little as he grew still. "She'll look after you, even if I'm not around, I need you to trust in that Clara."

Clara rolled her eyes. "Trust the box that used to vanish the bed with me in it, produce hologram leopard's to chase me down the corridor, turned off the gravity whilst I was in the pool. Oh and once for seemingly no reason at all turned all her walls transparent whilst I was taking a shower to give me that wonderful thrill of thinking I was about to tumble into outer space, butt naked."

He was smirking again which she considered a job well done. "Yes, that's what I'm saying."

"You are a mad man." She supplied. "But as nice as this is, I need to get up and use the bathroom and do other human things that don't involve you or this bed." She rolled out of his arms and gingerly got to her feet, glancing back to find him staring with a rather pleased expression on his face. "Go do something useful... like make breakfast." She instructed, "Ideally without disassembling and reassembling every appliance in my kitchen."

He gave her a mock salute with a grin. "You're the boss."

* * *

><p>Now she knew he could cook she supposed she shouldn't have been all that surprised when she emerged from the shower to the smell of bacon. Slipping on her robe she entered the kitchen in time to see him grinning as he flipped pancakes and seemed to consider whether or not he could flip the eggs before deciding against it.<p>

"Smells good." She commented as she sat down, impressed that he'd made her a cup of tea as she gripped it warming her hands. He placed a ridiculously high stack of pancakes in front of her, strips of bacon dividing each one and a fried egg sat proudly on top. "Wow." She managed realising that was the second time he'd reduced her to uttering the word today and quietly wondering if she'd ever given the impression she could possibly eat that much.

He smiled sliding an even higher plate in front of himself as she sat knife and fork raised with a huge grin as he lifted up a jug of what she assumed would be honey... or syrup only to see a thick creamy liquid emerge and slop all over his plate. Clara winced. Bacon, eggs, pancakes and _custard_, it didn't quite have the same ring to it.

"That is disgusting." She laughed lightly at him, "this though," she skewered her fork in it, "is delicious."

They spoke about nothing and everything, it seemed easier she supposed than discussing what they had done, what had changed and his apparent reasons why, or his impending death.

"Will you travel with me for a little while Clara?" He asked as she pushed her plate away unable to take another bite.

"Don't I usually?" she quirked an eyebrow at his suddenly rather coy question.

"You give me Wednesdays." He corrected pushing his own plate away and leaning forward to take her hand in his, those green eyes of his locked on her somewhat accusingly.

"And you always skipped to them." She smirked, seeing his slightly guilty look and knowing what she'd always suspected was true. "So you think one night of mind blowing sex is enough to make me pack all this in and run away with you...?" she half teased.

He ran his fingers across hers, reminding her just what he could do with them, his eyes alight. "One night and a morning...yes." She hated that he was probably right.

"Maybe." She settled on, after all he did have a time machine, you could run off for months and still be back in time for tea, if that wasn't an excuse to escape the sometimes monotony of everyday life then she didn't know what was. Even though that was exactly what she'd done, mostly to preserve her own sanity, there was only so much of the Doctor's world you could take before it started to jade you to the simple pleasures of an Earthbound life, of the 9 to 5 work day. Plus she hadn't exactly wanted the temptation of being with him every day, trying not to succumb to the most foolish of impulses and actually develop feelings for him... _because that had clearly worked out so well._

He waggled his eyebrows playfully at her and leant in for a kiss shattering her illusions further of just what little willpower she had left, "Like you could resist this?"

* * *

><p>The Doctor couldn't help but feel a little smug when she didn't protest the suitcase he started packing for her. Although she did unpack most of what he threw in and added her own more careful selections. Standing at the end of her bed, one massive suitcase packed, hands on her hips he felt her indecision keenly. He slid his arms around her waist, dropping his chin to her shoulder. "I can bring you back whenever you need." He assured her. "No time need have passed at all for your family or your students if that is what you're worried about."<p>

Clara sighed wrapping her arms over his. "No it's fine, I've rung my Dad to tell him we're going away for a Christmas break. School's off for a couple of weeks I won't be missed for a while, you can bring me back then, however long it actually turns out to be."

The Doctor felt his hearts perform a little flip. "However long?" he was smiling as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. "I'll take that challenge."

He of course carried the bag into the TARDIS, trying not to bound into the thing and look like a complete fool in front of her quietly poised self as she followed him in, a soft smile on her face. He failed he realised as he bounded up to the console and began pushing buttons. "We need to get you a room."

"I have a room." She reminded him and he frowned.

"Yes but not big enough for all these clothes, it didn't even have bunk beds." He added with distaste.

"Or a bed at all half the time." She muttered almost low enough that he didn't hear it and he paused a second giving the TARDIS console a frown as he recalled just how 'unfriendly' his Old Girl had been. Odd given the lengths she would one day try and go to help Clara.

Clara however seemed willing to let it go as she smiled, coming to stand beside him, "Are you quite certain you want me to have my own room?"

He glanced sideways at her, honestly confused. "Where would you sleep?" It took him, to his shame, a ridiculously long time to grasp what she was getting at even with that seductive little smile of hers dimpling her cheek. "Oh, right, yes." He laughed quietly at himself, "I guess this will take a little getting used to." He'd switched almost to autopilot as he'd entered his ship, a Companion at his side ready to start an adventure, their bags packed.

Her hand went over his stilling his movements. "If you're uneasy I can keep my own room here, if you want we can share that?"

He shook his head, hating his own ineptitude at times, he'd made her uncomfortable within five seconds flat of agreeing to this unusual 'relationship' with him. The Doctor turned, dropping her suitcase and lifting one hand to stroke her face tenderly. "I'm sorry, just not used to well," he pointed between them, his hand cupping her cheek. "This." He admitted. "And I've never shown anyone my room." He added quietly and she seemed to pause so he ran what he'd said through a filter and considered how it could have been misconstrued. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather share it with." He added, genuinely surprised to realise it was the truth.

"What about your wife?" Clara asked delicately and he admired her boldness.

"My _ex-wife _is dead." He reminded her, dropping his hand from her cheek to run it delicately down her arm and take her hand. "But no, River had her own room and frankly she never did stay on board long, and I rarely sleep."

"Doctor." She stilled him with a hand to his chest. "We don't have to do anything your uncomfortable with. Yes our... _arrangement_ has changed," he frowned internally at her use of the word rather than 'relationship' but let it go, "but that doesn't mean we have to rush into things. We're already practically cohabiting, maybe that's fast enough."

He sighed running the hand that wasn't gripping hers firmly through his flop of hair and despairing at his Time Lord brain. Without hesitation he ducked his head and kissed her soundly, cradling her face and trying to convey his meaning. "I'm thick is all, notorious for it." He muttered, "Never can get anything right first time. So let me be clear Clara Oswald; I want you in my bed." He hadn't meant it to sound quite so forceful, or so erotic but her widened eyes and his suddenly deeper voice were sending off signals all of their own. Her breath hitched just slightly when he kissed her again, his arm trailing down her spine to wrap firmly around her waist and press her closer. "This isn't a joke Clara... nor a dalliance. I don't _do_ those." He insisted feeling ridiculous having to explain what had no doubt been perfectly obvious to her the moment she set eyes on his bumbling self this regeneration round. "So when I say I want you in my bed... I want you in my room, my home, my life, my hearts." His green eyes pierced hers and he considered brushing her mind to let her feel the force of his conviction on this. Time Lords never did things by halves, they were all in or all out that was just the way of it, the way they were built and he had most definitely jumped all in.

Clara blinked, pulling away from him and to his surprise, turning her back on him as she grasped the centre console for support, her head bowed breathing shallow. He wondered if she was crying. It certainly hadn't been his intention. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders, feeling her tense momentarily before relaxing against his touch.

"Am I frightening you?" He whispered, aware he should perhaps back away, give her time, but found he was utterly unable to release his gentle hold on her.

She shook her head. "No... it's just." She paused and he realised she was staring into the TARDIS matrix as though asking it for answers. "I don't know why I'm surprised, you never do anything in half measures; it's always all or nothing with you. Why would this be any different?" he opened his mouth to speak to acknowledge that was exactly it when she spun in his arms, lifting a finger to his lips to silence him and revealing glassy, but not wet eyes to him. "But I knew that Doctor. I knew the moment we kissed what I was getting into with you."

Her finger retreated and he found his voice again. "Which is why you only gave me Wednesday's before." He nodded suddenly it was blindingly clear, she had been protecting herself from him, from being consumed by him and his way of life.

"And now I'm giving you more." She reminded him pulling him out of the slight melancholy he felt himself slipping into.

"In my room?" he asked hopefully, flashing her what he hoped was a boyish grin. He wasn't sure why this meant so much to him now, but it was the idea that she somehow thought he wouldn't want her there that rankled; that his idiocy had made her think that for even a moment was abhorrent. From the moment he had committed himself to this course of action with her, the moment he had accepted his feelings for her, there had been just as she had realised, no second thoughts or doubts. He wanted her, needed her... loved her. Perhaps it had taken her near destruction at his own hands to realise it and he was notoriously slow at times, but he knew it now. If this was an act that helped her understand that then he was committed to it.

Her eyes rolled, but she seemed to visibly soften, taking her hand in his offered one again. "If you're certain, then I'd love to."

"Perfect." He smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Clara nodded as he bent to retrieve her suitcase, giving her hand a gentle tug and pulling her along behind him not wanting her to grow hesitant as they made their way. "I should explain about River." He attempted and she looked down avoiding his eyes, as he reopened the wound he'd just mostly successfully closed, but better to deal with it all now.

"You don't need to do that, I know enough of your secrets; you should have the right to keep some at least." She replied, brushing aside his attempt to ease the situation and reminding him how unique she was, even for him.

"I want to." He admitted, steering them deftly through the corridors, heading deeper into the TARDIS towards his bedroom. He explained briefly River's unusual conception and how she had been stolen away to be raised as a weapon to kill him. "My bespoke psychopath." He smiled warmly at the memory, taking a right past the swimming pool. "But marrying River, it was an inevitability, I met her at her end and was convinced she would become my wife because of what she said, the things she knew. And when it came right down to it, she held all of time hostage in her steadfast refusal to accept my death; it took me marrying the woman just to get her to listen to me."

"But you loved her." Clara pointed out astutely and he was forced to remember she had spent considerable time with the woman in question inside her head.

"Yes. I loved her." He admitted coming to a stop outside of a door that reminded him eerily of the one his future self had locked her within. "But it is possible to love someone in spite of yourself, and against your better judgement." He added quietly, he squeezed her hand tightly. "River and I were like fire and gasoline... volatile and dangerous; we bought out the worst in one another."

He caught her chin, making sure she was listening intently. "You make me a better Doctor, a better man. From the moment we first met I saw that; even an Echo of you was able to rescue me from my darkest place." He told her what had been evident from the moment she had let him into her life. "With you I can finally find a sense of peace." He leant in close his lips brushing hers, hesitating to see if she accepted his truth, and finding only her slightly surprised but pleased expression, he kissed her letting her feel the promise in it. In the words he didn't dare say aloud just yet, because there was no certainty she would be able to return them in this moment. After all of from her perspective this was sudden despite his arguments and he was just grateful he had managed to convince her travel with him for longer than a single adventure.

"Thank you." She offered, brushing his cheek with her own small hand and he turned his head kissing the palm of it.

He unlocked the door and held it open to her, "Clara Oswald, welcome to my sanctuary, my little piece of Gallifrey."

* * *

><p>Clara awoke in deep red satin sheets, her arm reaching out to find the bed empty and she rolled over, sighing and staring up at the stars swirling and dancing in the ceiling, a galaxy of lights above her head, looking out into infinity. Very apt.<p>

He had warned her last night that he needed very little sleep, that if she should wake to find him gone it was not a testament to her, but to his own restlessness. It was still a little difficult not to feel a flicker of disappointment however, but she was surprised to realise quite how much she wanted to wake in his arms. Two nights with him and she was already putty in his hands, she was certain feminists would have been disgusted with her, but she had held herself in check for an entire year which she thought should have earned her points.

But she had to concede that she was impressed he trusted her enough to not only let her in his room, but to leave her alone entirely to explore it. He'd said it was a piece of Gallifrey and as she wrapped the sheet around herself and took in what she'd been too preoccupied to notice yesterday she felt memories stirring. Red grass... the distinctive smell of the fields seemed to permeate the room and the sound as the wind rushed through them, she could almost hear it. Her hands lightly brushed the artefacts, some were works of art, some technology, other's merely nick-naks and mementoes, all of it from his world.

There was one corner though she noted that he kept something else, his _friends_ she realised; a picture, a jacket, a pair of glasses, a notebook, a stethoscope, a wedding veil, all of them a piece of his history spent with those human beings who'd been brave or just mad enough to follow him. Long gone, but never forgotten; like the world he still allowed himself to cling to in the privacy of his own thoughts. She'd never quite understand what it was he saw in them, or in her, his human Companions; oh she had some idea, perhaps it was as a touchstone to keep him connected to the wonder, like he claimed. Maybe other times it was to forestall the loneliness. Maybe they really were the equivalent of pets that he could grow fond of and teach new tricks, nurture them into something more. Perhaps it was just to act as his audience and assuage his ego. Or to give him something to fight for, to remind him the Universe wasn't always darkness.

She supposed it could be all or none. He was over a thousand years old and he'd travelled further than any of them, back and forth in time on a whim. Even amongst his people he'd been a wonder, a legend, an oddity... '_Other'_. Rumours and whispers had plagued him his entire life. 'One of these things is not like the other' her memory tingled with it and she pushed it away. It was the notion that had sent him to the stars, wanting to see and interact and explore, to live a life unrestrained by their failings and their cowardice.

Asking 'why her?' would have been trite. Right place right time, fate, self fulfilling paradox? It didn't matter. For some reason the Universe had decided she was the one to be there in the moment to do what was needed, to save the Doctor and so doing save itself. Her life was utterly mixed up in his now, this impossible man and his Blue Box, off to see the stars. She'd been fooling herself to think it wouldn't affect her, that she would be able to keep her life on Earth and here somehow apart; she had become that 'other' thing, the human being who's eyes and mind had been opened. Changed utterly by flying too close to the sun on wings made of wax... except he'd always catch her, bring her back to Earth so she could pretend to be like the rest of them. To be satisfied with one world, one life, one galaxy; a life lived in small steps of triumph instead of glorious leaps of wonder.

She'd hated him for that a little. For showing her the Universe and making her aware of everything that she was missing; all that the human race was missing. For opening her mind and her memories to a lifetime of worlds, of lives, of loves and deaths through her Echo's. All of them with a singular purpose and a passion, 'to save the Doctor'. The instinct still reverberated around in her skull, voiced by a thousand Echo's even if it was she who had set the call; they carried it still. She wanted more. She wanted him and he had given her both. It was enough to make anyone's head spin. 

* * *

><p>Clara entered the console room to find him stood hunched over a grim expression on his face as some sort of sound played out through the speakers.<p>

"What are we listening too?" she asked lightly as she joined him on the opposite side of the console. He gave her a warm but sad little smile and flicked the sound off.

"Nothing, just background noise from a sun that went supernova."

Clara nodded accepting that until the view screen in front of her came to life all by itself and the sound once more came blaring out the TARDIS speakers. Her eyes tracked the information as best she could, the TARDIS seemed to be extrapolating it for her, _'would wonders never cease'. _Apparently the Old Girl didn't like him keeping this from her.

"It's a distress signal of some kind." Clara looked up seeing his ashen features and immediately crossing to him, she stood inches from him, "What is it really?" she pressed him, "Please don't lie."

He sighed heavily, head bowed. "Well go on then, since you're so keen on showing her, why don't you identify the name of the planet this signal is originating from." He growled angrily at his ship, pushing a few buttons himself before the TARDIS seemed to do just that and he spun the view screen back to her.

Clara hesitated reaching for it. He didn't want her to know what this was, that was clear and she trusted him. She pushed it away without looking. "I trust you." She replied, "If you think I don't need to know, I don't." He gave her an unfathomable look and gently swung the viewer back to her.

"You should know." He admitted quietly.

Clara hesitated before looking at the viewer and absorbing the words there as the TARDIS dutifully identified the source of the signal, it was a planet, populated by a colony of humans in the far future. But that wasn't the interesting part, it was the name, the name of the planet that had clearly turned the Doctor ashen. "So this is Trenzalore." She whispered feeling lead settle in her stomach, when he'd said he'd found it at the proper time, she hadn't realised quite what that meant. Clearly he was supposed to respond to this signal, as so many ships already had if the long range sensors were correct because she was picking up just about every ship imaginable. Then the designation for the planet flickered just for a moment it read something else entirely. Her expression must have reflected her sudden shock because the Doctor was beside her.

"What, what is it?" he pressed, looking at the screen but it had gone back to the original.

"Gallifrey." Clara told him seeing his expression darken at the mention of the word.

"What?" he asked waspishly, his temper never was good when it came to his planet.

"The planet's designation, it changed, just for a moment. It became Gallifrey." She stepped out of the way to give him the viewer and together they watched the name Trenzalore unblinking until she almost began to believe she'd imagined it. Then it flickered. 'Gallifrey'.

The Doctor almost had his nose pressed against the viewer. "That is not Gallifrey." He hit the console hard. "That is my tomb and this is the trap that lures me there." He moved as if electrified, throwing buttons and levers until he was pitching them backwards in time, away from this point, the signal followed she noted, but it didn't seem to stop him, he was clearly determined to run from this.

Gently she placed a hand on his arm, trying to still his frantic movements. "Doctor, I don't think this is something you can run from."

He laughed, actually full out laughed, turning to grab her and pull her tightly into a hug that lifted her off her feet. "Oh you watch me run Clara Oswald, you just watch." He placed her back down and caught her face in his hands, manic energy radiating off him and into her through his dancing green eyes. "I ran from my death once before, from Lake Silencio, from the fixed point where River would kill me. I ran and ran and for two hundred years I cheated fate." He kissed her but it was a desperate thing that revealed the full extent of his fear and she held onto him tightly wanting to offer him some measure of the comfort he seemed to find in her arms.

"I'm not ready yet." He whispered and his voice cracked over the words as he dropped to his knees, sliding down her until she was holding his head against her chest rocking him lightly.

"Then it's a good job you have a time machine." She stroked her fingers through his mass of hair, soothing his overworked brain. "It'll still be there when you're ready." His arms tightened around her waist.

"I love you Clara Oswald." He spoke the words forbidden between them into her stomach and the tension seemingly bled out of him with the confession off his chest.

She supposed there really was no point in secrets anymore, in holding back, she'd already fought with herself on a near daily basis about the wisdom of falling in love with the man, not that it had helped. She'd jumped into oblivion for him, it hardly needed to be said. "I love you too."


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE **

There was running and there was running _his _way. The Doctor grinned madly as he watched Clara dancing through the falling blossoms of the sanctuary he had bought her too. A habitat for the endangered Jaroulia flower, the seeds of which could be used to treat so many ails, not to mention the aphrodisiac properties of the pollen... he hadn't warned her especially about those. Some things were better experienced he admitted quietly to himself taking in a huge lungful of pollen tainted air and chasing after her with a whoop.

They ran to Barcelona, where the dogs had no noses and they'd lain together in the great meadows whilst he began re-teaching her Gallifreyan.

He took her to see the ancient Pallopatomic race that shared remarkable similarities to the Aztec's where she was promptly worshipped as a deity and he spent the better part of the trip trying to hang on to his head after they'd thought him a demon for his double heart beat.

They'd picnicked on the planet of the Ice Bears, whilst they danced wild and free around them.

He'd barely survived the radiation poisoning he suffered when he accidentally tripped a planetary defence mechanism by stepping out onto what he thought was a perfectly normal body of water.

She'd swum through the Ballarian Nebula in a skin capsule watching as stars blazed into existence and new life sprung forth. A thousand million years passing in an instant.

He'd carried her injured and unconscious form through an entire Sontaran battle ship under heavy fire, dodging and weaving until he was able to collapse inside his TARDIS and rush her to New New Earth's hospitals.

And every time they returned to the TARDIS, his machine protested the Paradox he was risking by dying in the wrong place at the wrong time, by materialising him in the one place he didn't want to go. Clara of course, his wonderful Impossible Girl would simply take his hand and help him set a new destination before leading him back to his bedroom they'd come to share.

Clara gave him two whole years.

Two years in which she followed him patiently, never commenting about going home, or leaving, or that he was being a coward for fleeing to begin with. If she thought those things at all she never gave any indication, it was perhaps just his own guilt making him expect to hear it.

Which was how they came to find themselves on a planet whose literal translation was 'Sorrow', surrounded by a sky full of black holes the remnants of long lost stars and civilisations. It was a world born in the ashes of death and doomed to die itself; eternally torn apart by the eventual counteracting gravity wells that would reach it. A world scarred by the actions of the Time War. Not a place he'd of chosen to step, but apparently his box had taken to finding new ways to remind him of his destiny, or the consequences of ignoring it...

"Ah, blast it all." The Doctor swore, "She's switched into diagnostic mode, the black holes and the scrambled temporal vortex here have damaged her matrix. She needs time to repair." He glanced at Clara who was eyeing the console as suspiciously as he'd of liked to.

"So she deliberately flew herself into what... the equivalent of temporal debris?" Clara snarked, giving the console a snide look that held no sympathy what-so-ever; she had been less and less accommodating of his Blue Boxes desire to bring an end to their temporary reprieve and deliver him to certain death for some time now and he'd noticed the animosity between the two seemed to be rising again, he was basing this on the number of times he heard Clara's frustrated shriek as she entered the bathroom. Or how she was seemingly appearing later and later in their bedroom looking cross and a little tired. In this particular instance he was thoroughly on Clara's side, but putting himself between a sentient machine and his girlfriend wasn't the wisest move and so he'd until now remained quite deliberately blissfully ignorant of it... apparently. Clara of course was too proud to actually call him on it and ask him to intervene on her behalf.

But this was different. This was dangerous. "Oh it's worse than that." He hissed, glaring and feeling the first stirrings of genuine dislike towards his ship which he was certain she would sense. "Just couldn't leave it alone could you." He bit out at his ship, hitting a button a little too hard in his fury as he stalked from the console and held out his hand to Clara, she frowned taking it and letting him pull her outside of the Box into the absolute darkness lit only by his ships lights.

"Doctor, explain? You have your properly mad face on." She pointed out and he sighed, running his hands through his hair and glancing around nervously. "This planet... people don't come here." He told her quietly, not sure where to begin.

"Ever?" she asked looking around seeing nothing of the once great civilisation that he knew had existed here and now lay utterly in ruin. Lost to the inky blackness of the black holes and time itself.

"Ever." He conceded and she took his hand.

"Ok you've succeeded I'm scared." Clara admitted, the shadow of the TARDIS lights playing across her face as she squinted into the darkness nervously not releasing her grip on his hand.

"You should be." He snapped, unwittingly letting his own fear bleed through, "The Old Girl has brought me here to teach me a lesson."

"What lesson is that?" Clara asked, hardly needing to, she knew as well as he did where the TARDIS wanted them to go, but he didn't think she'd quite grasped the roundabout message his Box was willing to deliver.

"That I can die. And if I don't do it where I'm supposed to it will probably destroy things as effectively as this star system was." He muttered, feeling queasy as he inhaled the air and honed his superior senses other than site to tell him what was around them.

"What happened here?" Clara absorbed that quietly, looking up into the inky black night sky that was blacker than black, nothing but the void up there pulling this planet apart, slowly. Death by a thousand cuts.

"Time Lords." He replied, "The war spilled out into the Universe, everywhere was engulfed, but this place... this was where they unleashed the Nightmare Child. This was where another kind of horror was born." He felt eyes tracking him and he spun, keeping his wide open.

Her hands went to his face, capturing it firmly. "What is here with us?" Clara forced him to focus to stop speaking in riddles because he wanted to avoid that very question.

He swallowed thickly. "This is where the Weeping Angels were born." He felt his head hang in shame. "My people turned this into a temporal battleground, the species on this planet should have died... but they didn't against all odds they evolved, they became stronger, they become something else entirely. They learnt to sustain themselves on the only power source available to them, time energy itself. But time itself was broken here; it made them feral, dangerous."

"The Time Lords made the Weeping Angels?" Clara managed looking as appalled as he felt at the memory; the very memory that had called him to take action against his own people.

"Who else but my race would name them that?" he paused seeing her flinch at the unpleasant tone of his voice. "Just one more victim of the time-war and yet another of our greatest shames. But that is what we were good at Time Lords," he all but spat the word, "making monsters out of the innocent. Turning peaceful worlds into blood soaked fields of death. Or in this case voids of time and space."

Clara smacked him, hard enough that his teeth actually rattled as he turned wide, stunned and somewhat angry eyes on her. But he didn't raise his hand to rub the cheek, letting the mark bloom instead, gritting his teeth to stare down at the furious young woman whose opinion meant far more than it should to an ancient blood soaked thing like him. "Stop wallowing in self pity. You are not your people!" She tugged him forward by his lapels, not in the least bit afraid of him as he glared balefully back at her. "Did _you_ unleash the Nightmare Child?" she hissed and he didn't dignify her with an answer. "Of course you didn't. Did you do everything in your power to stop the war, to stop your people?" he pursed his lips.

"I was too late; I should have..." she pressed a finger to his lips silencing him.

"Shut up." She snapped, as furious as he was now it seemed. "You should have what; committed genocide sooner?" her dark eyes flashed with indignation for the both of them, it didn't matter that apparently he hadn't in fact killed his entire people anymore, the fact that he thought he had at the time was what mattered, that he'd been willing to do it. "You did stop the war. You saved what was left and you held off doing the unspeakable until you had no choice. You are not responsible for what happened here anymore than I am responsible for the holocaust on Earth. Your people are not _you._ Their actions, their decisions the good and the bad are not yours. And it was not your job to stand up and stop them, but you did it anyway." She would never stop seeing the best in him he realised, in trying to make him see it to. He kissed her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close, wanting to drown in the feel of her against him, the taste of her as he tugged at her lips listening to the sound of her breathing change and smiling at his effect. But now was not the time, not for him to have an attack of guilt or to succumb to her more than alluring charms. He pulled away kissing her cheek and tugging on her hand.

"We need to move." He hissed, not looking behind him. "She wants to prove to me that I am being reckless, risking the Universe just like they did by dying here, which means this place is not safe."

He felt Clara tense, her grip tightened in his and he knew her eyes were scanning into the darkness pointlessly looking for the threat they'd never see coming. It had perhaps become his greatest fear, losing Clara; but to lose her to a Weeping Angel as he had Amelia and Rory, it was unthinkable and in that moment he loathed his ship for putting him in this position.

Of course it was too much to ask that they go unnoticed, he felt the shadows move, the ripples of time currents around him. Darting forward he pushed open the TARDIS doors, keeping Clara close behind him as he pulled her inside and shut the doors firmly, placing his hands on Clara's shoulders and angling her to face the door. "Keep watching." He instructed her sharply; of course she knew about the Weeping Angels he'd found himself one particularly low day explaining to her about how he had lost his Ponds and exactly how he'd come to find himself sulking in Victorian London; but hearing about them and seeing them were two very different things. "Do not look them in the eyes." He reminded her needlessly and she lowered her gaze to the floor, her lips trembling.

"How long will she be fixing her self-inflicted damage?" Clara called after him, her gaze steady on the sealed doors.

The Doctor ducked to the console and pulled off a panel, scanning it and grimacing at the data he received, his none answer seemed to be answer enough for her.

"How sturdy are these wooden doors at the moment?" Clara asked her eyes on them, the tension in her voice obvious as a shadow darted across the small window panels catching his eye. "Because if you say they are just wood right now, I want something more than my eyes trained on them." The Doctor glanced her way and jumped to his feet, hurrying to her side and pressing his sonic into her hands. He'd been instructing her in its use recently, her mind was surprisingly adaptable to telepathy as it turns out, which had come in handy for their extra curriculas' but also rather more helpfully in this moment, leant itself to her assisting with occasional repairs... when the Old Girl was being more cooperative that was.

"Oh for heaven's sake." She muttered not looking at him as she grasped the sonic firmly and pointed it solidly at the doors, trying to reinforce the rather weakened shielding in that particularly vulnerable area. He left her to it, returning to the console and ducking under it. His mind latching onto his Old Girl's thought patterns and pushing the rather explicit instruction that if any harm came to Clara because of this he would never forgive it; so she'd better hurry the hell up.

Several minutes later the pounding had become distracting and the Doctor found himself cussing silently as he tried to reconnect wiring that had no business being connected in the first place, as Clara backed steadily away from the bowing doors, cycling the sonic through just about every function which was making his ears ring. Then the rocking started.

"Oh God... this ship is infinite and they are rocking it." Clara shouted at him and he hissed zapping himself on the wires in distraction.

"Technically right now it's just a small Blue Box with some very weird wibbly wobbly dimensions that is giving them a bit of bother." He bit back, sucking his thumb into his mouth to lessen the stinging as he dived back in, he was close; he could feel the old girl working with him finally to repair herself, apparently not quite as willing to sacrifice herself as she had been him, at least not just to make a point.

A hand smashed through the top window of the door and Clara let out a shriek, backing further away from the door as the hand froze in mid motion with her attention. "You know I can only keep my eyes on one at a time right... or at least one field of vision, these double doors are kind of taking up more than that right now." Clara warned him, backing up to the console in what he hoped was an attempt to increase her field of vision on the door.

He managed to reroute the power supply through the shielding, which had the effect of weakening the spatial dampners which kept all the bigger on the inside... well on the inside. The whole ship shook with the Angel's fury as they struggled through the treacle the outer hull had likely become as it shifted beneath them. Then it lurched and he heard Clara cry out there was a thump and then everything was silent.

"Clara?" he called, and there was no answer. His heart rate picked up and instantly dampened down in response to her suddenly muted one and he hastily began shoving things back inside the console. He glanced back, seeing her lying prone against the metal railing; his sensitive nose detected the scent of blood. "Now is the time Old Girl!" He snarled swinging out from under her and grasping onto the console as he began to throw levers with abandon. He would force her into the air and away from this planet if it was the last thing he did.

* * *

><p>The Doctor placed Clara's unconscious form on the bed, swinging the scanners over her body. She had a concussion and there was some swelling on her brain. He set the automated medbay he'd been prioritising ever since the Sontaran incident to repair the damage; injecting her with the nanogenes that would circulate and respond to the medbay's commands. In hindsight, given the nature of his adventures, the medbay should have been his priority a long time ago. As it was, he was grateful it was up and running now as he smoothed his hand over her hair, his fingers coming away tacky with her blood; he stared at it with a growing pit in his gut. The scanner informed him that there had been neurological damage due to the sudden severance of the telepathic connection she had with the sonic which she'd been actively sending instructions to right until the end. He realised that she'd probably bought him those last few minutes he'd needed with the modulating shield algorithm she'd set in motion, which she'd based on the attack patterns she'd been avidly watching. <em>Impossible Girl.<em>

He pressed a kiss to her chin and crossed to the supplies, even in a high tech medbay it seemed you couldn't get away from the low tech water and cloth; he soaked the latter and began gently cleaning the blood away from her face. The TARDIS gave a hum and began reconfiguring something, but he wasn't interested, he supposed he was giving her the silent treatment; he had blocked her telepathic circuitry for the time being and had set her down somewhere nice and safe with the parking break on and her primary power supply rerouted to diagnostics. She wasn't going anywhere until he wanted it... for once.

The scanner beeped informing him that Clara's injuries had been repaired, he checked the readouts, the neurological damage had been fairly extensive, if she hadn't been flexing those underdeveloped human telepathic muscles of hers frequently it might have been permanent, as it was it was just a little scarred. She wouldn't be using it again for a while, but it would heal. He sighed placing his hands atop hers and dropping his head to where they rested on her stomach. This was _his _Clara and he'd almost lost her... again.

Perhaps these past two years with her had been a gift, one he shouldn't have had and for that he should have been more than grateful. But he wasn't. He was greedy, always had been, one adventure was never enough, one world, one star, he'd wanted them all. And he wanted it all with her; but there he went again, being selfish, changing the parameters of their relationship without letting her know first.

She stirred and the TARDIS dimmed the lights in response, no doubt trying to get back into his good graces. He pressed a hand to her forehead as she blinked her eyes open. "Hey there." He smiled down at her and she startled, shooting up and groaning her hand flying to her head in response to the sudden movement. He grasped her shoulders, "Easy, easy, I've just got done fixing you, take it easy for a minute."

"Angels?" she asked in panic, clearly the memory of her last few moments was gone.

"We're fine." He promised, stroking her forehead as she lay back, looking relieved. "I've got you."

* * *

><p>It took days before he stopped treating her like glass, he wouldn't even touch her unless absolutely necessary and usually to perform another needless scan. He'd taken to waving a portable one after she'd refused to return to the medbay for a checkup. Clara sighed catching his wrist in exasperation as she caught him hovering over their bed, scanner in hand. He had the sense at least to look mildly guilty before that look vanished to be replaced with his stony one as he tugged his wrist back, tapping at the scanner.<p>

"For heaven's sake Doctor... I'm fine. And FYI you're not even a real Doctor. Stop scanning me!" She leant up and ripped the device out of his hands tossing it with a satisfying thunk across the room. He stared open mouthed and a little bit outraged his eyes darting between her and the scanner.

"That wasn't necessary." He snapped, making as if to retrieve the damn thing until she lunged for his hand, stopping him in his tracks at the gentle insistence of her touch.

"Doctor please. Stop. Just, sit." She patted the bed beside her; the same bed he hadn't ventured near in days either, preferring it seemed to spend his nights ignoring the TARDIS and tinkering with the medbay.

He hesitated looking torn. It pained her to do this, but the man was beyond gullible sometimes and she needed his attention. "I've been having nightmares," she lied, mostly; her dreams hadn't been great of late but she expected that after a run in like the last one. "Please just hold me?" her plea sounded a tad much to her but his entire expression seemed to fall and she regretted hurting him again, because clearly he was taking this whole injury to her personally. But as he eased himself down onto the bed and pulled her into his arms, wrapping her securely in them she pushed away her conscience; it was only a white lie after all.

His fingers brushed through her hair and she sighed letting her head drop against his chest and just listened to the steady beat of his hearts. "I'm sorry." He mumbled pressing a kiss to her hair. "I just worry." He added quietly and she could tell his eyes had drifted back to his damn scanner.

"I know Doctor, but I'm fine, you just have to accept that at some point." She sighed a little exasperated.

"You're having nightmares; that's not fine." He pointed out and she winced as he started to ramble on, "it could be a sign that the neurological damage is..."

"I lied about the nightmares." She blurted, cutting him off. There really was no point beating around the bush; this wasn't a hole she wanted to dig any deeper than it already was.

"You...?" he started to ask and she laughed at his near incredulity.

"Yes shocking I know Doctor, you're not the only one that can lie." Her tone softened as she tried to hide her blush, or the way her voice wobbled over the next. "I just wanted to hold you."

"Oh." Was his soft reply, as he held her a little closer. "Please don't lie to me." He added as if in afterthought and she tried not to let her temper spike too high.

"Like you never lie to me?" she huffed thinking it was a bit rich coming from the guy who had called that 'rule one'.

"I haven't. Not since we've been, well..." he hesitated, never seemingly comfortable with what to label them, "since holding you like this became alright." He settled for and her anger bled away, he was impossible to stay mad at.

"Oh." It was her turn to feel contrite.

"Besides," he sighed, "I _am_ a real Doctor now." She glanced up at him to find his proud smile, "I read just about every human medical text there is these last few days. Popped out to watch a few surgeries, got a few gadgets and doohickeys." His hand brushed her cheek holding her chin so there gazes remained locked. "I can take care of you now, I promise."

Clara felt something stick in her throat and she blinked away tears, having to drop his gaze, there was always so much in his eyes, too much for a human to bare sometimes she thought. His every action was layered with depth and meaning, nothing was simple with him.

She placed a hand over his chest. "I've been hurt before Doctor, with you. There was that time I got doused in red prehistoric leech goo and turned into a Stepford wife... or you know that time I leapt into your time stream, got ripped apart and reformed in the time winds." He tensed clearly not his fondest memories. "Why is this time any different, I mean I banged my head a little, hardly anything to run to the Cat Nurses on New New Earth with is it?"

Perhaps she'd struck a nerve, she didn't know, but she suddenly found herself pressed into the bed beneath him, her face in his hands sharing the same breath. "Because now your mine." He told her utterly unapologetic for his sudden possessive turn as his eyes flashed a deeper green, drawing her in. "I love you." He added, perhaps taking some of the edge off it as he lowered his mouth to hers; kissing her like the last few days apart had been a torment to him. His hands caught hers and he laced his fingers through them, pinning them to the bed beside her head. She had no words as he shifted his hips against her and she responded in kind; what on earth was she supposed to say when your mostly mad alien boyfriend declared you his? '_No thank you? Oh that sounds lovely dear?'_ Neither seemed appropriate so she chose to say nothing as he traced his lips across her throat, not relenting in his grip on her. The Doctor, as she'd so recently acknowledged, was many things at any one moment apparently possessive and a little domineering was one of them too.

"Are you mine?" he asked her pulling back to watch her expression, clearly her silence at his declaration had bothered him.

Clara hesitated. "I don't know, are you mine?" she turned it around not sure in the least what he really wanted, if he really wanted anything other than her response at all?

"Yes." He didn't hesitate. "Always." He murmured kissing her feather light, as if it wasn't the earth shattering secret it was.

Clara blinked, staring up at his utterly serious eyes, wondering if he was playing 'rule one' with her now despite his insistence that he wouldn't anymore. Her heart hammered in her chest, she'd spent two years running with this man, three if you counted the first year before they were together like this; she wasn't sure he'd ever stop surprising her with what she could feel at any one moment for him. She loved him, of course; but staring back at him now it was clear to her that wasn't enough, whether it was the man in him, or the Time Lord she wasn't sure, maybe it was the wounded survivor, the man without a planet, but he seemed to need more than just her love; he needed her surrender.

"Yes." She whispered.

His grip on her wrists tightened a fraction and he leant in until their lips brushed, "Yes what?" he pressed, unrelenting, his expression somewhere between pained and aroused.

"Yes, I'm yours." She replied not sure what emotion it was that sent something rather like shock chasing through her blood stream, but his smile was wide even if his eyes sparked with something unspoken that she chose not to see. His lips claimed hers and she closed her eyes, giving into the sensations she'd wanted to feel the moment she awoke in the medbay safe and sound... and still breathing.

He didn't use telepathy on her, he murmured something about it not being safe for a little while for her and she tried to remember what sex without it was like and came up blank, much like when she tried to remember her life before the Doctor waltzed into it. Fortunately the Doctor wasn't suffering the same problem and he seemed more than happy to rise to the challenge of making her scream for him without the aid of his little bag of tricks as he raised her hands, pinning both of them at the wrist with one of his larger ones above her head. "Keep your eyes shut." He insisted, his breath ghosting across her ear and sending a shiver down her spine.

Slowly but surely his lips brushed her skin feather light across her face and down her neck to trace up her arms, until he was sucking her pulse point at her wrist into his mouth and making her toes curl with just that. "Funny what you can learn in those medical text books." He murmured tracing the shell of her ear and sucking the lobe into his mouth, before moving to a point on her neck that did something funny to her insides that made her back arch beneath him. "Apparently the human body has so many interesting little erogenous zones, it's all just a matter of pressure." He rasped as his fingers skimmed across her collarbone heading down to her sides.

"Keep your hands there." He instructed and she fought the urge to ignore him, wanting to reach out and touch him, but his tone was the one he usually reserved for telling her to run when monsters were attacking, so she chose to heed it. Slowly his hands skimmed over her, the simple nightdress she wore doing nothing to block the feel of him as he grasped her leg, lifting it up and placing it on his shoulder. Her eyes opened and he stared hard at her, stilling his movements until she recalled his earlier words. Hesitantly she closed her eyes again, trying to decide if this side of him coming out to play was something she'd want to see again. Then his mouth closed around the back of her knee and she all but yelped, her whole body bucking as his tongue did something delicious to the nerves there and she didn't care at all what he wanted her to do with her hands or not.

She was fickle and most definitely _his_, she decided as she lay panting beside him sometime later, a lazy smile plastered on her face as his hand ghosted down her spine. She hadn't so much as touched him she realised as she turned slowly to stare up at him, his satisfied expression making her realise he didn't much care. Her hand raised and she hesitated holding it over his face until he leant into it.

"What about you?" she asked gently, not certain she could sit upright currently let alone follow through on whatever promises she wanted to make to him. He smirked, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to the palm.

His words weren't in English, but she just about grasped them all the same as he slipped into his native tongue which he'd been doing more and more frequently recently, usually to whisper sweet but mostly dirty things against her skin. "Oh trust me my Love, I'm more than content." Clara sighed, her grasp of spoken and certainly written Gallifreyan was improving with his gentle and somewhat frustrating teaching style, but her tongue simply didn't seem built for the syllables to allow her to voice it with much success, at least not when she compared it to what it was supposed to sound like in her memory.

Never the less, she gave it her best shot. "Thank you." She offered, after all what else were you supposed to say when the man you loved decided to give your body his undivided attention for an hour or two. She leant up and kissed him firmly, wanting to reassure him and wipe away the slight frown line from his features as he started to over analyse the situation.

He smiled, wrapping his arms around her and spooning behind her. "My Clara." He murmured in English this time as they lay there until his gentle breathing and warm embrace soothed her into an exhausted and dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Time Lords were a possessive species. He supposed it was something in their natures; but they were also loyal, Clara had his heart and his love whether she knew it or even understood what that meant. But his need for more from her, a deeper commitment, hadn't abated with her confession some months ago that she was 'his'. If anything it had strengthened the primal voice in his head that demanded he take action, claim her as his mate before the Universe could throw anything else at them. Unrestrained relationships were half the reason Gallifreyan's and specifically Time Lords had long since abandoned the notion of love being the basis of a relationship, or god forbid a reason to procreate. All relationships on Gallifrey were arranged, their mates preselected and even breeding for progeny was done through the genetic looms. Everything controlled. No messy primal urges to get in the way and disrupt the harmony of society and return them to the savages they once had been.

He found himself sincerely pleased that the Council were no longer about to reprimand him for his current emotional state. It was hardly what one would call self restrained.

Which was perhaps why he made the potentially foolish, most likely to be heartbreaking in the long term decision to ask Clara to marry him. It seemed at the time like the most romantic and sensible thing to do, he wanted the Universe to know that he loved this woman, that she was unequivocally his but most of all he wanted to bond them in a way that would transcend even his death and hers. Although he hoped and prayed hers would be a very long time from now when she was old and grey and done with running.

So of course she'd said no to his sweeping romantic gesture amongst the stars. She'd said it with a kiss, but that didn't make the rejection sting any less, or in any way help to resolve the emotional turmoil of his wholly unprepared Time Lord brain.

It took him months to work up the nerve again. Instead of the romantic gesture he went for the life and death one with the flood of endorphins and adrenalin, both of them soaked head to toe in the entrails of the giant beast that had ingested them and he'd been forced to explode from the inside. In hindsight that might not have been the wisest decision he ever made, but she did at least hesitate that time, before shaking her head and stroking his cheek. "No Doctor."

She never called him 'my love' or any other term of endearment like River had, despite his many protestations of love for her, but he continued to whisper his adorations in Gallifreyan to her, determined to declare her 'his hearts' even if she wouldn't. Instead the words she offered him were telling and simple, '_my Doctor'_; he thought they were perfect.

"Be my wife." He whispered it in Gallifreyan against her skin for the third time, as they lay in the apple grasses of New New Earth.

She sighed quietly, reaching out for his hand. "If you want to get me to accidentally agree to marry you then don't re-teach me a language I used to speak." She pressed a kiss to his palm.

"Why?" he asked her the question he'd been too afraid of the last two times, pulling her onto his lap and kissing her gently, insistently, desperate to know what more he could do. It seemed to him the only solution to his current needs, and the most obvious solution to how to deal with the overhanging threat of the Valeyard. No Time Lord in there right or any other mind would be able to harm their wife, not if they had been bonded in the Gallifreyan way.

Clara at least seemed to be considering his question, which given as he was the one that kept springing it on her seemed generous. "Why do you want me to be your wife?" she asked back, just as calmly if clearly a little exasperated with this.

He frowned. "Why does any man want to make a woman their wife?"

Clara captured his chin. "I'm not interested in _any_ man's reasons, I want yours."

The Doctor considered it. "You think I'm being selfish?" he asked quite certain.

"I think your being impulsive." She corrected, "There's a difference." She sighed, "I also think that half the reason you're asking, is because deep down a part of you knows I won't say yes."

"I love you." He bit out hating that quite unintentionally she always seemed to make him feel guilty for saying it.

"And I love you, being your wife wouldn't alter that." She countered.

"I need the Universe to know." He admitted and she pulled away slightly from him, "I need it to understand that it can take everything from me, but not this, not you, not if for even one moment I got to say you were mine... and I was yours." It was a truth, but he would never admit the full of it, that it would keep her safe from him included, she would never believe it.

"Is this for you or for the Universe?" she questioned, her nose doing that slightly wrinkled thing it got when she was irritated with him and deciding whether or not to get angry and he wrestled with the answer.

"For us." He promised, taking her face in his hands and wishing he could make her understand just what it meant. "This wouldn't be simple words Clara. A binding like this, we would be linked, hearts," he placed a hand over hers, "bodies," he kissed her, "minds." He touched his forehead to hers and let his thoughts drift into hers, let her see how much this meant, how serious he was. His first marriage had been arranged as was the custom and children produced through the genetic loom, hardly romantic. His second marriage he had been all but press ganged into left with no alternative, and whilst he had loved River it had hardly been a healthy relationship, or conventional.

"_My_ Doctor." She sighed, closing her eyes as she left her forehead against his until he slowly let the images and thoughts retreat back inside his own mind. "We're running from your death. We might still have years, or days. But it doesn't matter, it's inevitable. You're asking me to marry you on your deathbed... I'm not sure I'm strong enough to survive _this_ as it is, if we're linked like that, I don't want to imagine what it would do to me." Her honesty should have been enough, if he hadn't seen what was coming, perhaps it would have been. But he knew better, a link like that might one day be all that leashed the Beast within him. But he understood her argument, on its face what he was asking of her was a cruelty he supposed.

"I'll survive Clara." He promised, "I will. A new man will walk away, new face, new ideas, new thoughts... but the same memories, same heart, same love. But the man I am now, a part of him will always belong to you, survive in you; no matter what I might become if we do this." He knew he had her, felt the subtle shift in her pulse and the dilation in her eyes, the thought of holding onto a piece of _this _him beyond death was a carrot she couldn't easily cast aside.

Clara was staring at him quietly, he could feel her mind working as her eyes scanned him, her hands reaching out to trace the contours of his face with her fingers. "Why is it that you can make even the most reasonable of my arguments seem utterly ridiculous." She leant in and kissed his cheek, "You impossible man." She added kissing his mouth chastely. "I'll marry you." She whispered finally in her slightly hesitant Gallifreyan and he felt his hearts tremble with utter relief as he clutched her to him, trying not to break down in her arms as she quietly stroked his hair.

The Doctor didn't know what it was exactly about his argument that finally swayed her, he liked to think that a part of her finally realised he'd never stop asking, that it was perhaps his last and greatest wish to be linked with her in a way that could transcend even the death he was running from. But a larger part of him hoped it was because she wanted it too.

Of course getting her to agree to it and actually getting to a destination where he could perform the ceremony was an entirely different matter. One she was exceptionally good at distracting him from he noted as he pinned her to the floor of the TARDIS console room where her latest distraction had worked well enough that he hadn't even made it a few feet inside his beloved box.

"I know what you're doing." He insisted biting sharply on her earlobe and enjoying the way her entire body arched in response, her own teeth biting down on her lower lip. "Vixen." He hissed, lowering his mouth to the skin that was still over sensitised from his ministrations. "For the last two months you've used every trick in the book... most of them dirty." He winked, trailing lower on her body, "to get me to forget that I'm supposed to be planning a wedding." She had the sense to look coy, her huge eyes blinking innocently back at him; he wondered just how many times he'd fall for that look. "Which is why I've taken to working at night... whilst you lie soundly and exhaustedly asleep in our bed." Her eyebrow quirked at this, it was clearly news to her as he'd been particularly sneaky about returning to the bed before she awoke; he'd realised soon into their adventure that she liked to wake with his warmth wrapped around her and far be it for him to leave his Love wanting.

"Oh god, tell me you didn't pick me a dress." She whispered in mock horror, although he suspected that was some real horror at the idea snuck in for good measure.

He crawled up her body, not releasing his hold on her pinned form just yet. Enjoying the feeling of control, even if it was only for a moment because in every aspect of the rest of his life she was most definitely the boss. "Of course not." He waited a beat, "Jenny and Vastra did."

Her eyes widened a fraction. "I've seen their leather getups... tell me you're joking."

He smirked. "You should have helped." He chastised kissing her soundly. "The invitations have gone out."

Her hands curled around his one which held her firmly in place. "Do I get to know the date you intend to have your wicked way with me, or will that be a surprise too?"

He smirked. "Tomorrow."

Her breath hitched and she stilled beneath him, a slight flicker of fear in her eyes.

"Time machine." He added quietly, "It's always tomorrow." His fingers traced the outline of her lips, wanting her to smile.

"Promise me something." She whispered and he nodded grimly, knowing in this moment he'd do anything she asked. "If we do this, we get a proper honeymoon, a proper go at this married life before you decide to stop running from the future."

And just like that the reason for her reluctance was laid desperately and so obviously clear before him. She feared that taking this final step with him would ring his death knoll, that he'd turn and face the looming spectre of Trenzalore once he had her. It was a ridiculous notion of course, that he'd ever want to stop running with her; or that he'd willingly relinquish her to the _Other_ Doctor that was waiting impatiently in the wings. Words had always been his strongest suit, but he abandoned them in that moment in favour of showing her just how ridiculous the notion was until she was curled contentedly against him a soft smile tracing her lips that he savoured.

"Fine, tomorrow it is, but I hold the right to veto this dress if it's some Victorian monstrosity." She uttered and he sensed quite astutely that she wasn't joking.

* * *

><p>The Doctor fiddled with his bowtie, he'd debated wearing one, but it was <em>his<em> thing he decided and he wanted to be unequivocally himself when he married his Clara, whether it ruined the outfit or not.

A solid hand clapped him on the back startling him from his thoughts, "Ready to enter the most terrifying and gruesome battle of your life Doctor... marriage?" Strax all but cackled at him as he straightened his own black tux, looking like a remarkably well dressed potato dwarf all things considered.

"Bit late if I'm not." The Doctor commented, feeling nervous for the first time.

"That's the spirit lad." Strax grinned back at him, "And if not, I have some grenades ready to help you make good on your escape."

The Doctor nodded ruefully, wondering if he might need those with the looks Linda was shooting his way. He understood Clara's reasons for wanting her family here with her, even if the practicalities of it had proven challenging.

Linda of course had been the hardest sell for this whole 'wedding' thing. He'd had to reach into his old back of tricks and hypnotise the damn woman into thinking she'd been on a private plane and that they were in some far flung paradise... but most definitely still on Earth, not on a somewhat more distant moon named Olaris that his people had once colonized to harness it's remarkable time energies. Roughly translated it meant something like 'endless journey'. But it was sufficiently hidden, intact and sufficiently appropriate to perform the proper Gallifreyan ceremony he intended which would bind even his Time Lord biology to Clara's human one.

Clara had of course told her father the complete truth wanting her family to be a part of it and know what it meant to do so. And so he had sat beside her on one particularly uncomfortable and blustery February morning around a hot cup of tea with him; her Gran sat opposite them looking bemused by the whole thing. Her father had taken it remarkably well on the whole. But hearing about it and seeing it were different things, her father had been relatively fine until he'd realised he was going to have to get on board the bigger on the inside ship with the alien who'd stolen his daughters heart. The presence of the others had helped, nice, normal humans from London Katherine Lethbridge-Stewart and Osgood, of course it had caused her father mild alarm when he realised they were most definitely '_Government'_ women. Fortunately that had been interrupted by their arrival in the Victorian era. Lesbians he was apparently fine with, which was a refreshing change from Victorian values; unfortunately it also meant he most definitely noticed the potato dwarf and the lizard woman from the dawn of time. It didn't help that Linda deep in her hypnotised state appeared to have painted Vastra in the role of air hostess on their 'plane'. As journeys went the Doctor thought he ranked this as one of the worst... and he was including the ones where he'd crashed on that list.

Jenny was being her usual tactful self beautifully distracting Linda from the fact that there was a distinctly alien sky above her head, the ground she was walking on held grass of a distinctly red hue and the trees weren't moving from the wind.

Clara's Gran though was smiling wildly to herself as she came up and linked an arm with him as they walked the short distance out to the precipice of stone outcropping that held the fissure in time just beyond it; an untempered schism waiting to be born, so long as you knew how to manipulate it. "Clara tells me I'm walking you down the isle." She grinned up at him and he noticed the same dimples reflected there. The Doctor couldn't help but admire how well she was handling the notion of all of this, he'd noticed that the older a human became, the less they tended to accept the fantastical; that was until they reached the tipping point of true 'old age'... after all Wilf had been a wonder to behold and worth every ounce of radiation he'd absorbed in the stubborn old soldier's place. He placed his hand atop the one she'd wrapped around his arm, keeping step with her.

"I'd be honoured." He admitted genuinely.

The old woman nodded, smiling softly. "We best not dilly dally though, impolite to keep a girl waiting." The Doctor followed her gaze and felt his breath catch as Clara stood at the low branches of the softly swaying trees that intersected one another about waist height and had been decorated with garlands to resemble an altar looking out over the precipice... Her hair was swept up and adorned in a simple white gown that flowed around her like water, drawing the eye to her gentle curves and emphasising the sheer natural grace of her face. She looked breathtaking. "So beautiful, standing there." Her Gran whispered almost to herself and the Doctor felt the whisper of the sentiment from her memory, the power behind it and he felt himself swept up in it to as they began to move towards the vision that was to be his wife. Vastra and Jenny had of course donned him out in a full Victorian gentleman's tux but he didn't think standing next to her anyone would notice what he'd worn at all.

Step by step he made his way towards her, his eyes flickering briefly to the small group of people here to bear witness. Friends and family, at least those that he wasn't currently hopelessly out of temporal alignment with, or had lost entirely. He'd have given more than he cared to admit to have Amelia here to walk him down the isle, she always had been the closest thing to a mother he'd had in over a millennia, even if it had been in the cunning guise of a best friend, but alas it wasn't to be.

He reached the end of the shortest and most important walk of his life and took Clara's extended hand, leaving her Gran behind to take her place beside her father. There was no officiary; just as it had been on Gallifrey, this was a joining of two people, two minds, two souls. It required no intermediary to speak on their behalf, just the presence of time itself and a woman who would agree to let him do all of this in the way of _his_ people, not hers.

Hand in hand they bound the fabric around their entwined grip. The words _'consent and gladly give' _floated over him from those assembled. Eyes linked minds as one they spoke in Gallifreyan to add their solemn vows to one another _'I am yours as you are mine. Mind and heart, body and soul. Bound as one. Body unto body, heart unto heart, mind unto mind for all of time.'_ His free left hand closed around his sonic and he kept his eyes on his soon to be wife, _his_ Clara, as he pointed it out into the maelstrom, feeling the moment the great schism bled through. Her right hand tightened in his and her eyes widened with fear and no doubt remembered pain, she knew or at least remembered what it was to look into the jaws of madness as all Time Lords did. He raised his unbound hand to her chin promising her with his eyes that she was strong enough and as one they turned to face the temporal vortex and the schism within.

In that moment they were rendered always and forever, split asunder and fused whole, their temporal strands and the exposed wound his Time Lord life would forge in the moment of true death reaching back to hers and becoming one. She was already a part of his timeline, but now the love and intertwining of two time travellers bound in marriage would extend always, even unto death. His true name echoed through their linked minds into hers, as hers, and the many thousand she had held reverberated through his. His final secret laid bare to her accepting hands.

"Husband." Clara finished the ceremony, raising their joined hands to her lips and pressing a kiss to the fabric.

"Wife." He kissed the shadow of her lips that lingered there.

It was done he realised, feeling the pulse of her heart beat forever now in his mind like a beacon that would lead him to her and sensing her time-line laid out before him as clearly as his own.

Applause and a loud whooping he suspected was coming from Strax broke out and the Doctor smiled, but he had eyes only for the woman that had claimed him as husband for always. Lowering his head he caught her lips, giving her the human closure the others could recognise as a wedding ceremony, which elicited even louder cheers. Now as his mind reached for hers he felt hers reach back, brushing over his and sliding into him like warm honey carrying with it her delight and pride; in this moment he felt true peace, happy and full of hope. Perhaps it wouldn't, or couldn't last, but for him, it was already a lifetimes worth.

They danced on Olaris for the first time as a true pair to the sounds created by the temporal winds through the not so still trees. The party went on around them and he scarcely noticed. Only when her father cut in with a gentle word did he disconnect from her mind and sink back into himself fully; stepping back to enjoy the clear happiness etched over his new wife's face as she twirled safely in her father's arms. He hadn't been certain until the moment he had taken her hand at the precipice that she wanted this as much as him; but she as always had driven all doubt from his mind.

Madame Vastra came to stand beside him, drinking that crimson liquid of hers that so turned his nose. "Congratulations Doctor." She tipped her head to him, lifting her veil now that Linda was most definitely three sheets to the wind on the champagne that Strax was determinedly handing her. "To both of you." She indicated the softly glowing Clara as she was twirled around the grass to the sound of the singing trees and the wind, laughing quietly at something her father was saying.

He inclined his head, not trusting himself to speak, wondering if Vastra would chastise him for his foolish folly in taking a human wife so close to his own end.

"I must say, you seem to be positively glowing." She smirked up at him, "So different from the gentleman I found on my doorstep some time ago now."

He smiled quietly, sadly to himself, "Yes, well she always has been good at bringing out the best in me, hasn't she?"

Vastra merely nodded. "It was a beautiful ceremony." She acknowledged. "I hope it brings you the happiness you are searching for."

The Doctor let his gaze drift over to Clara. "It already has."

"Excellent Doctor." She sipped her drink, looking far too satisfied with herself as if she had uncovered a secret he wasn't aware of concealing.

The Doctor deliberately stepped away from her. "Go dance with your wife Madame and I'll do the same." He tipped his head to her and stalked away to do just that, cutting in and directing her father towards Linda who looked quite thrilled to see him again, if a little unsteady on her feet.

"Talking about me?" Clara indicated Vastra who was watching them for a moment before she took his advice and swept Jenny into what he thought rather looked like a waltz.

"Constantly." He muttered, sliding his arms around her back and admiring not for the first time how well she fit against him as she dropped her head to his chest and he cupped her hand over his hearts. He could feel her single one beating in tandem with his... he supposed now he always would. Synchronised. A bi-product of the binding. If hers faltered his would trip right along with her, right until the connection ended and the beats ran silent in one of them. Leaving him to stumble forward alone and deafened by the silence created in the absence of her rhythm.

As with everything she did it seemed almost effortless as she danced with him, transporting him into a state of complete peace with just her soothing presence.

The Doctor of course couldn't hog the blushing bride all night he'd more than a little reluctantly handed her over to Strax and was surprised when Kate pulled him by the hand and insisted he if not dance with her then at least sway. He stared down at the woman who's father had once and always would mean a great deal to him. Her opinion he realised had also come to matter.

"She's good for you." Kate pointed out, indicating Clara with a spin as he pulled her back.

"I always thought so." The Doctor acknowledged.

Kate smiled up at him. "I'm happy for you Doctor, you found someone as wonderful and as impossible as you are, the two of you together make sense."

"Really?" he queried, "Which part?" genuinely curious after all in his experience no one else ever thought a human and a Time Lord together ever made a lick of sense.

Kate smiled not giving credence to his attempt at melancholy. "Doctor," she sighed sounding almost as exasperated as Clara sometimes did with him when they thought he was being particularly dense. "I know all about your previous Companions, I've vetted more than a few of them personally; I know their histories, the good and the bad. Are you honestly going to tell me that if it was Clara that had fallen into that alternate world, that you'd have simply let it stand...?"

The Doctor blinked at the suddenness of the memory, of the reminder of his lost love Rose. The answer roared through him like the surge of their heartbeats. '_Never'_. He'd have ripped apart the Universe, torn his own cracks in it and forced it to hand _his_ Clara back.

His heartbeat calmed and he saw Clara turn to look at him with a questioning expression as her own heart beat no doubt settled "I see." He nodded quietly absorbing the lesson and wondering why it was these remarkably short lived human beings always seemed so wise to him.

"Love like that Doctor is precious; so don't try to over think it, because in my rather more limited experience you just end up missing the whole point." He smiled down at her, rather hoping that for once he could take the advice, after all his time left was fleeting and the ache in his bones insistently dragging him back to the correct point in his time-line was ever more pronounced.

But not today.

They danced and laughed and when the time came for him to return them as he waved the last group off ignoring Vastra's smirking form waving back at him, he let the TARDIS doors close and let out a small sigh of relief.

He caught Clara's contented smile beside him and decided not to risk moving the TARDIS for any reason as he rushed over to the console and slammed the parking brake on before he turned back to gaze pointedly at the woman in question.

"Are those your 'come to bed' eyes _husband_?" she teased and he tried again, she laughed lightly at his equally unsuccessful attempt and he stalked forward lifting her up and spinning her around his own laughter mingling with hers.

"Call me that again." He insisted when he returned her to her feet, cupping her face.

Her eyebrow arched imperiously at him. "Why? Does it excite you..._husband_?"

He kissed her thoroughly, their tongues exploring as if their mouths were new territory. "Wife." He sighed against her lips, "Come to bed." He murmured, not relying on his eyes to get the message across.

"Why on Earth would I do that?" she teased him mercilessly slipping out of his grasp and rounding the console, at least he hoped she was. "Just think we could be having an adventure right now. Let's go see the birth of the Universe..." she reached for a lever and he darted forward taking her hand and tugging her back into him; she gazed up at him in wide eyed innocence. "Come now Doctor don't tell me you'd rather go to sleep than explore somewhere dangerous and beautiful?"

The Doctor leant down capturing her neck with his lips and biting sharply enough to leave a mark to remind her about teasing him in the future. "Who said anything about sleeping Love." His hands lowered until he settled them over her bottom ushering her forward until his hips bumped hers, "Besides I intend to explore something dangerous and beautiful." She seemed to appreciate the sentiment because she pulled his head down for a kiss and he considered forgetting the bed at all.

"Don't you dare." She bit out biting his lip and he marveled at just how well her mind could connect with his now, even with the barest of physical touches, the binding clearly having taken well to her human physiology.

"You're the boss." He conceded, sweeping her up into his arms and striding forward, willing the TARDIS just this once to cooperate. His bedroom materialised around the next turn and he smiled, _'Thanks Old Girl'_ he send back to her and stepped up to the doorway, his new wife in his arms. It was a heady moment for him and one he committed to the vaults of his memory as he stepped over the threshold into his piece of Gallifrey. He smiled down at her, seeing her answering dimpled one in return, her dark eyes alight with reflected emotions; this was what it meant he realised, to come home.

* * *

><p><strong>Authors note: I know so far so relatively soppy for me and bit of a short chapter, I promise it is getting back to Time of the Doctor any day now, I've got most og the Chapters written so will be publishing them quite swiftly. Thanks for those who have read and reviewed and who are following this story your feedback it is much appreciated.<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

They managed to extend their honeymoon for a whole year; a year of adventure and tears, joy and rows, but overall there was a sense of contentment he hadn't dare hope to ever feel. It was safe to say he loved his wife... _his Clara_.

But like all things, it too had to end.

The TARDIS hadn't presented him with Trenzalore since their wedding, it seemed even his ship had declared a truce in favour of giving him this brief spell of peace and happiness. Right up until the moment she chose to remind him vividly of his destiny by landing him on the ice planet he'd journeyed to before this new twist in his story had begun. There was no waiting mirror image TARDIS here though, no counterpart from the future, just the yawning mass of ice and snow, pressing into him with the memories of what he had become, of what he would do and why he chose to change it all in the first place.

His hearts ached with the thought of it and the Doctor felt tears sting his eyes as he stepped hastily back inside his ship, grasping Clara by the shoulders and ushering her back down the ramp, not willing to allow her to put even a step outside on the hateful ground that held such terrible memories for him. Fearing that it might seal a paradox of some sort around her. He had taken great pains to erase that part of his and her history, he wouldn't allow it to repeat.

"Doctor what are you...?" she queried staring up into his tear stained face with a look of surprise and growing concern, her hand was on his cheek stopping him from moving her further.

"It's nothing Love." He hushed her questions, pulling her to him in a tight embrace. "Just a memory, long since buried." He dropped his lips to her hair, inhaling the scent of her and the feeling of serenity it imbued him with.

"You dear husband, don't cry over nothing." She pointed out still a touch of irony in her voice whenever she called him that which wasn't as often as he'd of liked; but she didn't press further for which he was silently grateful. However it did nothing to assuage the feelings of guilt that swam over him at the reminder of what had so nearly come to pass. Of what he would have done to this impossible woman who'd been mad enough to agree to be his wife.

Her sigh was palpable and he felt her shift fractionally her hands going to cradle his face and force his eyes onto her, a dangerous venture given as how well their minds could link now; but her walls were in place, as were his and she didn't attempt to pry letting him have his privacy. But her expression spoke volumes. "It's time, isn't it?" she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion. Of course she'd know, she always knew.

The Doctor leant into her touch, closing his eyes to block out the sight of her tears which had begun to fall. He nodded once, reaching up to clutch her hands, holding them in place. "It's not fair." He breathed, feeling rage lash at him, it was a sentiment he hadn't felt the need to express since his last imminent death when he was a very different kind of man.

Clara leant in close and he felt the brush of her lips against his, forcing his eyes back onto hers. "The Universe has given us the better part of four years Doctor to run from this; to be together. It's more than you expected isn't it?"

"It's not enough." He bit back wondering how it could possibly be enough for her as he kissed her hard; unwilling to admit that this was it, that his time with her was nearly done, that he would hand her over to the monster he might become. "He can't have you. Not yet. Not ever!" He swore pushing her back into the console with the force of his kiss, needing her to understand what he had only before ever hinted at.

"Husband," she warned and he stilled, dropping his head against hers in silent protest, not letting up an inch between their bodies. That word alone had the power to stop him dead, the force and meaning she could put behind it, shaming and challenging him all at once... especially not when uttered in that lilting Gallifreyan of hers. "You can't be jealous of yourself. It's ridiculous." She admonished him.

He felt his fingers grip her tightly in reflex, his anger flashing. "It's not jealousy." He reminded her of their earlier conversations years ago now the first time he had come to share her bed, of the fears for his future self he harboured.

"He'll still be you." She pressed as ever looking for the best in him.

"Maybe." He acknowledged.

"Yes." She insisted, "That was the point of all this wasn't it, to give you something to fight for; something to ground you, to bring you back?"

"You don't understand, the things he did to you..." he trailed off, backing away from her, his hand rose to his mouth as he felt physically sick at the reminder.

Her face hardened and she followed him, reaching out for his hand and forcing him to look at her. "I know." She replied and he stilled, feeling something hollow spread through him.

"How?" he managed weakly, certain she couldn't, how could she stand to be around him if she knew?

"Your nightmares." She admitted quietly, "The ones you don't think you have because you rarely sleep?" she sighed, brushing her thumb over the back of his hand comfortingly. "It's difficult lying in your arms like that, with your mind screaming beside me to block it all out, eventually some of it was going to bleed through."

His expression turned ashen. "I'm sorry." He whispered aghast at what he had unwittingly forced on her, trying to tug himself out of her reach for fear of contaminating her further. She refused to let him go. "You never said..." he accused lightly, hating that in some things she was so much stronger than him.

Her smile was thin, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "What was there to say?" she shrugged, "They were nightmares, the very thought of what you had seen tormented you. What good would dragging it into the light of day do?"

"You've seen him then, you've seen what's coming. The Valeyard." He snapped, angry with her now. "Why don't you hate me, why are you still here?" he honestly couldn't understand it, he'd hoped that if nothing else he could keep the full awful truth from her, unmake it all so that not even the memory of it remained. "He locked you in a cell Clara, he tormented you mind and body. He twisted everything, turned the Universe into his own personal petri dish of misery." He hands were shaking with self loathing and fear... for her, for himself. "You should hate me. How could you not?"

Her mouth twitched and he recognised the quick flash of her own anger. "Because you are the Doctor." She all but hit him with the words. "And because you are my husband." She bit out as if he was exceedingly dense. "For better or worse, _forever_. Isn't that the meaning of the vows we made, or did you think it wasn't as real for me as it was to you?"

"Even Time Lords allow the breaking of vow when a regeneration results in such a deviation from character." He fell back on facts, unsure of what else he could argue.

"That's a cop out and you know it." She bit back. "I married you knowing what was waiting for me, hell you practically spelled it out our first night together, so don't think I'm walking into this blind. I'm still here because I love you. Because I believe in you and because like it or not I can help save you, especially from yourself."

"You shouldn't have to keep saving me." He pleaded one final time, but her words flooded over him as he let tears fall wondering just what it was he'd done to deserve her.

"Well someone's got to save you so you can go on saving the Universe." Her arms were folded and her breathing was short and sharp, her body language screamed irritation with him, but even in that moment she wasn't able to disappoint him.

"He's a monster." He warned, knowing she understood the true darkness behind that word.

"Then I'll remind him to be the man I married." She promised. "He cared enough to unmake himself, to give us this chance to change his history." She reached out and grasped his hand firmly in hers again. "Actions like that aren't those of a monster and certainly not this Valeyard." She reached forward squeezing his hand in hers. "It's very much a Doctor thing to do."

He felt a sob break him and he tugged her close enough to envelop her in his arms, sliding down her body until he was on his knees, his head pressed against her chest as she held him softly, the sound of her heart beating in tandem with his own bringing him peace. "I love you." He whispered in Gallifreyan against her.

"And I will always love you, no matter what happens."

* * *

><p>Clara held his head tightly against her, rocking him gently in her arms and feeling the solidness of the despair he kept tightly wound inside of him give just a little. She needed him to believe her, to believe in him if they were to get through this. She'd learnt a lot these past few years, more about him than she imagined even he realised. Enough to recognise the long buried truth for what it was... The Doctor and the monster he feared weren't all that different. Flip sides of a coin. His best day and his worst. Not that it was an epiphany she needed to share with the remarkable man on his knees clinging to her like a lifeline. He was perfectly aware of the darkness he harboured, of what he was capable of unleashing and like any decent man, he feared it's unfurling.<p>

Of course she would have been an idiot not to admit she was afraid of the prospect of a darker Doctor; of the man she loved ceasing to be and another striding forward in his place, his memories, his hearts, the same damaged soul... all bound to her fragile human one. And she wouldn't break, not if she could hold him together for even a moment longer.

His hands slid to her ass and she sighed closing her eyes; to think there had once been a time she thought of this man as all but sexless, even a prude. He'd get embarrassed at just the mere mention of impropriety... it had all been very _Victorian_. His teeth pulled up her top so he could press his lips to her stomach, his hands grasping her firmly until her hips were pressed against his chest. As it turned out her Doctor was simply more discerning with who he chose to share his affections... particularly his intimate ones. At which point all bets were off; even she had to blush at some of the moments which had been carved into her memory, when he was quite literally insatiable.

"Just for you." He whispered revealing how in tune he was to her inner thoughts and carefully undoing the buttons of her blouse until he could expose her bra covered breasts to his hungry gaze. That little smile that curved up only one corner of his mouth as he brushed his thumb across them spoke volumes. Clara's head fall back, simply letting herself absorb the sensations he enjoyed creating and pushing aside the still faintly disturbing idea that her lover could quite literally get inside her head if and when he chose if she was distracted enough.

"Am I distracting you?" he chuckled, his hands sliding to her inner thighs, his pout at her choice of attire was almost enough to make her regret not wearing a skirt today, almost... as he deftly unzipped her. Then his hand was slipping inside bypassing her underwear entirely and cupping her between her legs; the heat of his touch forcing a moan passed her lips. The sensation of watching herself flickered behind her eyes, the lust and adoration that flared in him as her body responded, the soft part to her lips drawing carnal desires from him to fill them. Clara gasped her eyes flying open to his in time to see his smirk as he pushed fingers into her tight heat. His use of his mental abilities to elevate the experience had come as a shock the first time he'd tried it years ago now, but it hadn't lost any of its potency, if anything since their marriage vows it had only increased with her new found ability to push back.

Clara attempted just that, mentally sliding her hands along his hard length, the phantom sensation of her mouth wrapping around him. He let out a sharp breath of shock and grasped her firmly, driving to his feet and leaving her offending articles of clothing behind on the floor of the console room as he lifted her up. Instinctively her legs went around his waist kicking off her heels as he pushed them back against the doors of the TARDIS he'd so recently forced her away from. Her back hit the wooden surface hard and she realised he had masterfully broken her mental connection from tormenting him further.

"My wicked, wicked, wife." He murmured dropping his head to her neck and biting sharply against the flesh.

Clara was almost too far gone to care as his mental torture continued unabated, phantom fingers sliding over and into her, his adoration as he worshipped her body becoming all that she could think. She didn't even care that he was still fully dressed whilst all she had left on was her simple lace bra. "I can fix that." He declared his nimble fingers sliding behind her back and snapping the offending clasp free. He clutched her back protecting it from the unyielding wooden doors, pressing his covered hardness into her.

Clara reached between them looking to free him from his restrictive pants; trying as she went to push his distracting litany of words out of her mind as they swept over her, some in English, some in languages she had no hope of grasping; most in Gallifreyan. But he was fighting her, her hands were pushed together pinned above her head by one of his much larger ones at her wrists. Clara arched beneath him at the feel of his teeth on her nipples. This was a side of him he rarely showed to anyone, and only every now and again to her; the side that liked to dominate, to make her quiver and scream long before he'd push inside of her and claim her thoroughly. _Possessive._

"Doctor... wait, not here." She gasped as he ground his hips into her, the mental impression of him entering her particularly pervasive and she clutched onto his face tightly. "Please, _She'll_ see." Clara tried one last time, her eyes on the centre console of the TARDIS, the distinct feeling of being watched on the back of her neck.

"She always see's." The Doctor rasped, his lips closing over hers and his tongue duelling fiercely, devouring her. Clara closed her eyes, knowing it was a foolish notion but unable to shake her unease at being so exposed before the ship, even if their relationship was vastly improved. Perhaps if they were just having sex it would have been fine, they had frequently failed to make the bedroom, but this...? the Doctor opened his green eyes onto hers and she felt mesmerised by the depth of them.

"You are mine." The Doctor told her his fingers entering her as if to prove a point as he embraced his most possessive side. "I want her to see." He added and Clara tried not to shudder at the strange duel sensation as her own emotional response to that sentence slid alongside his vastly different one. "I need her to understand." he was relentless even inside her mind as he pleaded for her to submit, to give him this. Clara shut her eyes tightly, giving herself over to the sensations, to her husband, letting him claim control of this, of her, as the rest of his life threatened to spiral so far out of his grasp.

"I'm yours." She conceded for only the second time as he held her this way, whispering his true name between their linked minds like the promise and threat it was. The faint flicker of concern that this dominating, possessive side of him that demanded nothing less than her unconditional surrender might one day be all that was left entered her mind and so his; his roar of outrage flooded her and she bucked at the fury she felt mingling her pleasure with sharp pain. Her eyes opened onto his and he filled her mouth with his, forcing the thought back down inside of her with every brush of his tongue, with every adoring word and touch against and within her. "I love you." She promised him, taking back the thought as best she could; letting her own adoration consume him as his did her.

She came screaming against the blue wooden doors pinned fast by his fully clothed body pressed against, but not into her, as she so desperately wanted. "Please." She pleaded, her body already glistening with the sensations he was evoking relentlessly as she arched her hips into him. Knowing for all his bravado he longed to slide into the welcoming heat between her legs as much as she wanted him there. He pressed his forehead against hers, keeping her hands pinned with his one above her head and letting his free hand trace the length of a leg securing her firmly around him, before pushing her back more insistently into the doors for stability. His now free hand dropped to his pants and the sound of his zipper was one of the most erotic things she could comprehend in that moment. His hand slid back to her ass, grasping firmly and making her instinctively clench her inner muscles; he chose that perfectly timed moment to slam himself to the hilt inside of her and she threw her head back solidly into the wood, a shriek escaping her as her slick core clamped violently down coming hard around him, her poor over stimulated body and mind awash in sensations that had her seeing stars before he had even begun to move.

"My Clara." He swore thrusting hard and fast into her, not letting her down from the heights of her orgasm for even a moment. The barely coherent thought centre of her brain decided quietly to itself, that if this was to be the last time she made love to her husband, to this face or at all... then she was perfectly content for this to be the memory she held of them. He came violently, his own exclamation of surprise was always endearing as he pumped his hips without rhythm for a moment, losing himself inside of her.

"My Doctor." She breathed claiming him, as he finally dropped her hands and she instantly captured his face with them, bringing his mouth to hers and holding her lips to his, taking in every shuddering breath as they came down together. Because that was the great lie of their relationship too... no matter what games he liked to play, he was always hers.

* * *

><p>The Doctor gripped the centre console firmly watching Clara retreat into the ship to shower and redress, she glanced once over her shoulder at him, throwing him an easy flirtatious smile that dimpled her cheek and deepened when he met her eyes, before she disappeared and he bowed his head.<p>

She drove him wild. It had been nearly five years since he had found her in Victorian London and again in the 21st Century, a little over a year since he'd married her and he hadn't even begun to explore the depth of his love for the woman. He raised his head and focused on the other great love of his life... to the ship that had been his home, his hearts and soul long before Clara had claimed them. "I need you to promise me Old Girl, promise me that you will protect her. From me, from you, from the Universe." The TARDIS console swooped and answered with a certain irritation that seemed to ask 'when haven't I'. "The Valeyard is coming, maybe Clara's right, she may be enough to hold him at bay for a regeneration, maybe two," he swallowed admitting the truth to his oldest companion, "but I will not survive her loss. That is what will create the monster."

The TARDIS was silent, but not in disagreement, she knew his sulks better than anyone; the depths of despair to which he could sink. "You must protect yourself too Old Girl. From him. Because he won't be me, not completely, the darkest version of me, a madman with a god complex. I want you to abandon him, don't let him use you to destroy everything we have done, all the good." The TARDIS let out a derisive tone and he slammed his hands down on the console. "I mean it. He may one day become the man you knew again, become the Doctor, but until that time I want him to find no shelter here. Do not debase yourself for him Old Girl; he has to walk that path alone."

His hands touched the levers, "Promise me." He pleaded, closing his eyes and waiting for the sentient machine. There was a sound like the rustle of leaves in his mind and the faint feeling of a sigh as she agreed quietly to his plea with no small amount of distaste. "Thank you." He sighed, genuine gratitude flowing from him into the machine, "Thank you, thank you, thank you." He stroked her fondly, the relief lifting a weight from inside his mind with the knowledge that whatever might happen his Old Girl would be safe... and so would his wife.

* * *

><p>Clara watched nervously assisting where he'd let her, as the Doctor piloted the ship to the source of the signal, back to Trenzalore. The screen flickered to life as the TARDIS bong went off letting them know they'd reached their destination. He pulled the scanner to him and pursed his lips, his mouth forming the words Gallifrey as he watched.<p>

"Are we going down there?" Clara asked quietly, certain the answer was inevitable.

"The whole planet is shielded, even the TARDIS can't get through."

"Does it still read as both Trenzalore and Gallifrey?" she asked, knowing the answer already but wanting him to say it, to acknowledge it and the faint hope she knew he bore.

He gave her a sharp look. "That is not my home; even if Gallifrey survived it is gone from this Universe. That is not my home. It can't be." He bit out, his body rigid with fury and desperate hope that she recognised as he stood tall, straightening his bow tie.

There was a fog horn blast from outside that startled Clara, but not the Doctor he looked resigned to it all now, the faint flicker of excitement pulling the corner of his lips up despite himself.

"What is that?" she asked as he approached the doors and threw them open, beckoning her forward to reveal a huge square spaceship.

"The Papal Mainframe. It's like a great big flying church." He helped her lean out to see the sheer volume of ships from every race imaginable just outside, all of them waiting for something... or someone. "The first ship to arrive, they are the ones that shielded the planet. They can get us down there."

A huge holographic face of a woman appeared projected out from the ship and beckoned to the Doctor with a curled finger. An invitation if Clara ever saw one. "Friend of yours?" she cocked an eyebrow at him and he gave her a little smirk that said _'I'm over a thousand years older than you, I may have gotten around.'_ If she had been less sure of herself and of his current devotions to her she might have bristled as it was she just rolled her eyes at him and returned her gaze to the still beckoning woman to whom he gave a low bow.

"Tasha Lem." He explained, "The Mother Superious. And she's inviting us on board."

Clara sighed. "Yeah I caught that; _why_ is she inviting us over?"

"Because I asked her to." He fished into his pocket for something and pulled it out holding it in front of her. "Swallow this."

Clara popped it in her mouth and did as requested. "What is it?"

He was smiling at her, "You know most people would ask that question before swallowing it." Clara shrugged, despite her better judgement she trusted her at times ridiculous husband. "It's a hologram projector; clothes projected directly onto the visual cortex." He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You can't go to church with your clothes on." He smirked at her incredulous look and popped one in his own mouth.

He turned from the door as their ship was pulled inside the Papal Mainframe and Clara followed him back to the console as he fretted about the controls. "I need you to hide something for me." He asked, shirking out of his clothes to reveal... well an identical set of clothes. Clara followed suit, looking down to find herself bare but oddly clothed. It was a strange sensation.

"I still feel naked underneath." She admitted, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Everyone's naked underneath." He quipped with an eyebrow wiggle that she tried not to laugh at, "Relaxing isn't it." He smirked, reaching over and patting her bottom, "If it's any consolation you feel it too." He winked at her and she stepped out of his grasp.

"What do you need me to hide." She muttered, knowing she was likely to regret asking.

He dropped down to his jacket and pulled out the TARDIS key from his breast pocket holding it out to her. Clara raised a questioning eyebrow at him. "Despite appearances, I'm naked, where the hell am I supposed to hide that?" His eyebrows danced suggestively his eyes lighting up for a moment as she swept behind her.

"Oh I can think of a few places." He wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her tightly against him for a brief moment before letting his hands rise to her shoulders and up into her somewhat longer hair which she had taken to letting flow loose in natural waves. "Here will do fine." He kissed the back of her neck and she closed her eyes, he had made no secret of how much he preferred her hair this length, quietly she agreed particularly when he was running his hands through it.

"Fine." She muttered, disappearing around the console to find a mirror and fix her hair into a deliberately messy up do, letting a few soft curls fall and frame her face. She held out her hand expectantly to him and he stalked around behind her, slipping it into her hair and lingering a moment with his hands on her shoulders. "It will be ok Doctor." She reminded him and he sighed, pressing a kiss to her apparently clothed, but still naked shoulder.

"Shall we?" he held his hand out to her and she accepted it gratefully, as ships went the Papal Mainframe didn't look the most inviting. As they stepped out of the safety of the TARDIS and into the cold metallic exterior to be instantly escorted by armed guards she gripped his hand a little tighter.

"So what type of Church is this?"

"Well the Church of the Papal Mainframe are like the security hub of the known Universe."

"A security church?" she paused trying to absorb that idea.

"Yep. Keeping you safe in this world and the next." He quipped as they made their way passed an array of soldiers and what she assumed were priests, or nuns, towards the woman who's projection had beckoned them in. The Doctor did a fancy bow beside her, "I venerate the exaltation of the Mother Superious." Clara glanced at him and in response to his slight head tilt she performed a quick perfunctionary curtsey.

The gentleman beside her nodded at them. "Welcome to the Church of the Papal Mainframe. Your nudity is appreciated." Clara balked slightly at that, wrapping her arms around her waist, but the Doctor was on fine form it seemed, grinning at the Mother Superious widly.

"Hey babes." She greeted him and Clara inwardly sighed, typical.

"Loving the frock." He commented on her somewhat severe black number as she looked him up and down.

"Is that a new body?" her eyebrow arched in obvious appreciation, "Give us a twirl."

"Oh this old thing?" he obliged giving a spin or her, "Please I've been rocking it for centuries."

Tasha smirked, "Nice though. Tight."

Clara cleared her throat. "Hello. Also here." She elbowed the Doctor sharply in the ribs.

The Doctor smiled and she felt the brush of his mind against hers, amusement at the notion of her jealousy clear as day, which only irritated her further. "Clara this is Tasha Lem, the Head of the Church of the Papal Mainframe." He introduced them, Clara assumed that would be it, he was surprisingly cagey about revealing more about her or their relationship, particularly for a man that claimed he wanted the Universe to know she was _his_. "Tash," Clara felt his hand slip into hers, "May I introduce my wife, Clara Oswald." And just like that she stood corrected.

There was a flash of something in Tasha's eyes, something predatory, before it was replaced with unfeigned shock. "A new wife. Well well Doctor, aren't you just full of surprises today." Her eyes were entirely on him and Clara got the distinct feeling she was being dismissed, which suited her fine, people often underestimated her, the Doctor preferred it that way.

"Very well then, we'll go to my Chapel." Tasha raised her arms addressing the assembled, "All honours in place, no sacrifices required." Wonderful... Boss of the psycho space nuns with the power to sacrifice them had a thing for her husband and here she'd thought it was going to be a bad day...

As they walked along the corridors of the vast ship following Tasha Lem, the Doctor's hand remained firmly in hers. "It was Tasha who shielded the planet." He told her what she already knew but he was saying it loud enough to drift to the woman in questions ears, "But you could sneak me down there, couldn't you Tash?" Clara realised with no small amount of horror that he was actually going to attempt to be charming.

She stopped at a set of grand doors, spinning on them. "I would have conditions." She admitted before her eyes went to Clara who instinctively stood a little straighter, not that it helped, the woman still dwarfed her. "I have confidential matters to discuss with the Doctor, would you excuse us?"

Clara opened her mouth to respond but the Doctor beat her to it. "Anything you have to say to me you can say in front of Clara." She expected him to back track, maybe to realise that this woman clearly wanted him alone for a reason and that it might be wiser to play along. When he didn't she felt compelled to take matters into her own hands.

"Doctor." She sighed, patting his hand and releasing it from hers, "Why don't you two go have a little chat, I'm sure I can find something to amuse myself." She turned giving the Doctor her back, but he caught her arm.

"Don't go anywhere with anyone... and don't let anyone trick you into a confessional." He whispered harshly into her ear, pressing a quick kiss there before following Tasha into her private chapel the door swinging heavily shut behind them and making her wonder if she'd done the right thing after all.

* * *

><p>The Doctor strode into the room, his eyes scanning it intently as his mind tried not to dwell on Clara separated from him. It was of course the right call and one he should have made himself. His eyes fell upon the centrepiece of the room. "That altar looks like a bed." He declared, eyeing Tasha.<p>

"That bed looks like an altar." She quipped back, her dark eyes searching his face as he hopped up onto it, finding it remarkably comfortable. He accepted the goblet Tasha handed to him and tasted the blue liquid before hastily spitting it out as it danced along his rather more unusual tastebuds like burnt rubber.

"Your new wife seems quite lovely Doctor." She smirked and the Doctor felt a flash of irritation that he kept masked entirely behind a veneer of childish innocence which Tasha at least was more accustomed to seeing. "Perhaps a little tame for you're more... adventurous tastes though, don't you find?" clearly he needed to work on that face.

The Doctor placed the chalice containing the vile blue liquid down on the wooden headrest. "And what would you know of my tastes?" he let for just a moment his age press through and saw her recalculate, relocating Clara from pawn to Queen on the board of their private chess match. It hadn't been his intention to reveal himself so blatantly and he silently cursed himself and Clara for making him utterly unable to control his emotional responses when provoked about her.

"What happened to the Professor of archeology?" she queried. "That one at least I could understand the attraction to."

The Doctor felt his fist curl for a moment as Tasha sat down beside him, too close for comfort.

"Till death us do part." He replied quietly. "I fulfilled my obligation." That at least seemed to quiet the incessant woman for a moment.

But only for a moment as she continued to probe. "And Clara...? I'll admit perhaps I've heard a rumour or two Doctor about your newest _associate_." Her smile was thin but her eyes were alight as she refused to call Clara his wife quite deliberately it seemed and he rounded on her, challenging her to admit the rumours with a quirk of his delicate eyebrows. "The woman twice dead?" she smirked when he stiffened fractionally. "An _impossible_ girl?" He must have looked surprised because she patted his leg in sympathy, "Come now Doctor you were hardly subtle in your, shall we call it _obsessive_ search to find her."

He shrugged suppressing the urge to hit himself hard in the forehead with an open palm, after all no one would ever know the full extent of what Clara had done for him, how truly impossible she was and he had no intention of enlightening the Universe.

"Tell me Doctor, do you love the girl, or are you merely in love with the mystery surrounding her? The irresistible puzzle that calls to your minds need to solve her?" She was leaning in, her sultry gaze daring him to kiss her, to prove that Clara was what she suspected and giving him an out to undo this mess he had gotten himself into. Because whilst he did trust Tasha Lem, to a certain degree in that he knew what her goals were, he wanted the Universe to be crystal clear on his position on Clara. But more than that he wanted this woman's entire blasted church to know it and to fear it. He wouldn't allow what had happened to his last wife to happen to Clara.

He met her stare with a cold one of his own. "I know what she is; I solved the mystery long ago." He declared. "And I know what she is now." He narrowed his gaze at her. "She. Is. Mine." He bit out making sure to enunciate each possessive word clearly as the threat it was and make sure this occasionally psychotic woman got the message that Clara was not on the table for discussion.

Tasha didn't flinch, just stared impassively back. "Then it must have been some mystery Doctor." With that parting remark she leant quite deliberately across him to touch a panel on the headrest and the signal that drew him and her to this location played out across the room. She leant in closer to his body, both of them naked beneath the holographic projections that fooled neither of them and he allowed himself a moment to remember a time when he might have found her alluring, or at the very least a distraction.

"That message is transmitting through all of space and time. What did it make you feel?" her question was far too specific to be idle but the Doctor played dumb anyway.

"Feel?"

She gave him a look that suggested she wasn't fooling him, but played along all the same. "Every sentient being in the Universe who detected that signal felt something. Something overpowering." Her lips drew in close, until they were almost sharing a breath as she attempted to illicit a response from him.

"What?" he queried quietly, perfectly aware.

"Fear. Pure unadulterated dread." She almost seemed to relish the way he didn't even flicker.

"Right. So what is the signal? Where is it coming from?" he pushed passed her getting to his feet and breaking the tension she had created.

Her eyes trailed him hungrily but she was perfectly composed as she stood, "It's a settlement. Human colony, level two... it's a farm, basically."

The Doctor absorbed that, his resting place would be a farm. Not quite what he'd been expecting. "Right." He rubbed his hands together letting excitement bleed through at the prospect of the adventure that awaited despite its unwitting end. "So has anyone been down for a look?"

Tasha shook her head. "Any one ship lands, the rest will follow. There will be bloodshed. Fortunately we got there first, shielded the planet. We maintain the truce by blocking all of them."

The Doctor nodded. "Daleks, Cybermen, one of that lot could break through your defences, it's just a matter of time." He frowned, aware that the echo of Clara's heartbeat in his mind was beating hard and fast as his own pair increased to match it.

"Perhaps," Tasha admitted, "But they're afraid, remember? Nobody wants to go first."

The Doctor leant in, letting her see the answer dancing in his eyes. "I do." It was a lie of course, this planet was the last place he wanted to set foot, not now if he ever did. But he must, if he was to die, he'd rather enjoy the ride.

"I was counting on it." Tasha smirked clearly delighted.

* * *

><p>Clara crashed through the chapel doors, her heart pounding her breathing laboured as she came to a halt staring at the confused face of the Doctor and the faintly amused one of Tasha Lem. Clara pulled up straight, staring behind her bewildered as the doors slammed shut.<p>

"Clara." The Doctor was at her side instantly his own hearts no doubt beating in tandem with her elevated one. "What is it, are you okay?"

"What?" she queried her heart rate levelling out as she tried to remember what on earth had caused it to race in the first place. "I'm fine, yeah fine, sorry." She shook her head as if trying to remember something on the tip of her tongue. The Doctor took her face in his hands and locked his eyes on hers, she felt him sink fractionally into her mind, finding only the mild traces of panic lingering and the sense of something forgotten.

"Confessional priests." He muttered. "The Silents always did give me the creeps; at least I think they did, can't rightly remember it either way." He added kissing her forehead. "I told you to avoid going to confession." He added, taking her arm and leading her further into the room.

"Right , well if we might continue. This is my personal teleport." Tasha announced briskly crossing to the back of the room and drawing back a curtain. "I can put you down just outside the town." She pointed a finger at him, "I want you to find the source of the message and report back to me in one hour. And on your life Doctor, you will cause no trouble down there."

Clara watched the Doctor pop his head into the teleport box behind the curtain as she hopped up onto the bed, swinging her crossed legs. "When do I ever cause trouble..." both she and Tasha rolled her eyes at him, "Right don't answer that." He pointed Clara to the other box beside his as he tried to draw the curtain, only for Tasha to stop him her hand out palm up, expectant.

"What?" the Doctor snapped, clearly feigning innocence.

"I'm not an idiot. Everyone in the church is trained to see straight through holograms."

Clara felt a momentary jolt at those words and felt her cheeks colour slightly as she glanced down at her not so 'clothed' self. "Ah. Great." She muttered, although she'd half suspected the Doctor could see through hers she had hoped he was an isolated incident.

"Give it, now. You are taking no technology of any kind down there." Tasha insisted and the Doctor rolled his eyes, reaching beneath his holographic clothes to reveal the TARDIS key on the chain around his neck.

"What can I do with a key?" he glanced at Clara, his eyes flashing for just a moment to her hair and she deliberately ignored him. "Clara, inside now!" He barked at her and had the good grace to appear mollified by her cross look, "Please?" He added and she chose to let it go hopping down from the bed and stepping into the box beside his.

"You could summon your TARDIS." Tasha reasoned.

The Doctor scoffed. "The TARDIS doesn't work by remote. But fine, if it makes you feel any better." He pulled it over his head and reluctantly handed it over to her waiting palm which closed around it with no small amount of glee. Clara pursed her lips, not wanting to know why he trusted this woman with the key to his ship as Tasha began pushing controls.

"Remember," she addressed the Doctor, "I want you back in one hour."


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

The snow was falling hard as they teleported down to the planet. Clara's eyes widened in surprise and she clutched her arms around herself, "Oh, cold, so very cold."

The Doctor's arms went around her and started rubbing hers vigorously trying to get some feeling back into them. "It's okay, don't worry. There's a heat loss filter in your hologram shell. It'll kick in, just give it a moment." He took the opportunity to pull her back into him, his arms going around her waist and she closed her eyes for a moment as the feeling of heat slowly started to spread through her, helped along by the fact that she really could feel every naked inch of him, hologram shell or not.

If he was distracted by it he didn't let on, "So, sweet little town covered in snow, half the universe in terror. Why? Why?" he was talking out loud, pondering it in his own way, so she remained silent letting him swing her around gently in his arms as she scanned the area.

"Oh, my God!" Clara cried out her eyes catching on an arm sticking out of the snow and a leaden feeling of panic settling in her stomach.

"What?" The Doctor looked everywhere but at where she was pointing, typically.

"There's something under the snow, it's..." she slipped out of his grasp and edging closer.

"What is it?" The Doctor pressed as she leant down in morbid fascination staring at the arm peeking out of the snow, as she reached out to touch it.

"It's cold." She exclaimed.

"Clara, stand back, please, come to me now." There was panic in his voice and she gave him a look that told him he was being ridiculous.

"Its fine, it's stone," she sighed with relief gripping it tightly and tracing her hand over the arm which was clearly not a frozen human as she'd feared. "It's just stone. It's only a statue."

"Clara!" he roared and she startled turning to look at him, "Step away from it, now!" He had his arms outstretched for her, but his eyes were fixed entirely on the statue. Clara moved a sinking feeling of dread filling her before the stone arm shot out and grasped her ankle firmly with inhuman strength.

"Clara Love, keep looking at it. Don't look away. Don't even blink!"

"Yes." She snapped with irritation and no small amount of panic, "I remember what to do when faced with a Weeping Angel." She hissed; staring wide eyed at the stone arm that held her ankle in a death grip, their last encounter with the Angels seared into her mind which gave a telltale twinge of remembered pain.

"Can you get your foot out?" he clutched her around the middle, tugging her backwards, desperate to free her, his panic feeding hers.

"Only if I get it out of my shoe." She managed, tugging just as violently to free it.

"You're not wearing a shoe." He reminded her, not easing up on his own grip.

"Good point." She conceded, looking down at the very real looking offending article.

"Okay, pull hard. One, two, three!" he pulled her so hard that they tumbled backwards out of the grasp of the monster, unfortunately it revealed not just one, but dozens of Angels as they began to emerge from the surrounding snow, sending her into a full on panic.

"Keep looking at them. At all of them." He had her arm tightly and his screwdriver was out as they pressed back to back, his advice was needless she wasn't taking her eyes off the damn things.

"Why are they here?" she swung her head trying to keep them all in sight, but there were so many of them all creeping closer.

"Same as everybody else. Must've got past Tasha's shield." The Doctor reasoned his head snapping from one corner to the other as ineffectually as hers.

"Clara Love, just keep looking!"

"I can't. I can't see. The snow's in my eyes." She shook her head trying to clear it.

"I just need to bring the Tardis down."

"You can't fly it remotely." She spun with him, feeling his hearts pounding against her back.

"No, but it can home in on the key." Clara had a moment to appreciate his genius before she shoved her hands into her hair and pulled free the glowing key, a smile lighting up her face even as the angels seemed to descend.

The sound of the TARDIS materialising was like music to her ears and she almost collapsed in relief as it closed around them, sealing them safely away from the Angel's grasp. The moment they were inside the Doctor's lips crashed against hers before kissing every inch of her face, as if making sure she was in fact there with him.

"I'm fine." She grasped his hands, trying to calm his manic energy, "We're fine." She added, taking in his slightly trembling form which she put down to adrenaline.

"I thought..." He whispered not able to even finish vocalising the fear she understood all too well as he clutched her face in his hands, his eyes shining.

"I know." She soothed, holding her hands over his, "They didn't, I'm here." She tried to calm his frantic heartbeats and so her own, "Doctor, I'm here." The wide eyed panic in his face didn't diminish. "Husband." She pleaded, lifting up and pressing her forehead to his. "Hush." She hadn't expected it to work, but he seemed to calm, his body lost some of the manic energy and she felt the pinpricks of his spiralling mind begin to soften out. The sound of his erratic heartbeats pounding in her ears softened until her own calmed right along with him, so they were beating as one again.

"Too close." He murmured pulling her in for an almost crushing hug, the Weeping Angels were and always would be a sore point for him she suspected.

Clara couldn't help but agree with his assessment though. "Tell me you bought us down here for a reason other than to get attacked by everything the shield failed to keep out?" The question seemed to spur him into action and he dropped a kiss to her forehead before spinning to face the console, pushing buttons.

"Of course! I'm homing in on the mysterious message now. Ooo yes, I like that," he grinned up at her "the mysterious message." He gave a little twirl of excitement as he spun across the console to the landing controls "I'm setting us down near the signal source and turning the engines on silent. Don't want to make a fuss." He explained for her benefit and she rolled her eyes, his emotional turnarounds always threatened to give her whiplash.

One benefit was now they were out of church she could put actual clothes on. "So much better." She muttered, patting down her black high neck jumper and black skinny jeans as her leather boots crunched the snow underneath.

The Doctor gave her a cursory glance, "I was perfectly happy with you naked." He winked and she slapped him on the arm, now was so not the time. He shrugged looking pleased with himself as he straightened his purple frock coat and started scanning just about everything he could, his eyes delighting over the trees that were decorated with fairy lights. If she didn't know any better she'd have said it was Christmas.

"So what do we make of this place? It's two o'clock in the afternoon. Must be very short days here." He observed the darkened sky, his screwdriver changed pitch and he followed it. "The message is coming from that tower." He pointed over to the clocktower and Clara linked her arm in his as they tried not to look like they were hurrying towards it.

Another couple were coming the other way. Of course the Doctor wasn't about to pass up the opportunity, much to her dismay he waved his hands at them. "Hello! Hello, there." He called out before ducking down to whisper into her ear, "right, we're a married couple from the next town. My name's probably Hank or Rock, something like that." He instructed grinning foolishly.

"Or Daisy?" she teased and he playfully smacked her bottom just out of eyeshot of the approaching couple.

"Watch it missy." He bit back, turning to the couple. "Hello, good to meet you. Nice snow."

The gentleman reached forward and shook their hands, "Most pleasant to meet you too."

"Most pleasant. Most pleasant." The woman beside him chirped, shaking their hands too.

He opened his mouth to make his introductions. "I'm the Doctor. I'm a Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey. I stole a time machine and ran away and I've been flouting the principal law of my own people every since." He clapped a hand over his mouth. "That wasn't quite what I was meant to say!"

Clara stared bewildered at him whilst the couple chuckled lightly. Hoping to make a better impression she opened her mouth, only what she intended to say didn't reach it. "I'm an English teacher from planet Earth; I ran off and married a man from space because I have a bit of a Saviour complex, plus he has great hair." Her own hand went to her mouth, shutting off any further words as she stared wide eyed at the Doctor beside her.

"I think, perhaps, you should stop talking till you get used to it." The woman smiled knowingly at them.

"Used to what?" the Doctor chanced.

But the woman was still smiling at Clara, "What did you say your name was dear?"

Clara hesitantly removed her hand, willing herself to say 'Clara'. "Bubbly personality masking bossy control freak." The hand went back over her mouth in mortification as the Doctor chuckled, nodding sagely, as he chanced removing his own hand from his mouth.

"I like it when she's bossy." He jerked then his head shot up as he pointed at both of them, "No, ah, I see. Yes, of course. It's a truth field." He rubbed his hands together with glee, "Oh, that is so quaint. I haven't seen a truth field in years." He grinned happily taking in the town and the couple in front of him anew as his eyes fell on Clara, "I'm really much too old for her." He quite deliberately shut his mouth, frowning.

"No one can lie in this town. Especially this close to the tower." The man informed them as they began to walk on away from them.

Bravely in her opinion the Doctor chose to speak again. "Doesn't that make life a bit difficult?

The couple answered together. "Not at all." "Yes."

"This town, what's it called?" the Doctor called after them.

"It's Christmas." The woman called back.

"It's July." He responded checking his sonic as if to be sure.

"No, the town. The town is Christmas. That's what it's called." She explained shaking her head as if they were rather sweet but dim.

"Be happy here. Be well." The man nodded taking them away.

Clara watched them go, taking in the lights and the snow and realising her initial thought had been right. "Bit strange, an entire town called Christmas."

"No more strange than a whole island being called Easter?" he nudged her smirking, "It seems nice here, I almost hate to find out what's wrong."

They made their way into the tower, heading down to the basement his sonic drawn to the source of the signal, the Doctor marched on ahead, his screwdriver out as he came to stand in front of the wall with a glowing crack in it. "There you are... what took you so long?" he whispered, staring at it in clear mortification and morbid fascination.

Clara cocked her head observing it. "Is that the same crack... the one you told me about, the one the TARDIS created?"

"Yes." He sighed, reaching out to place his hand on the wall. "I knew, I always knew it wasn't over."  
>"This is the crack in the fabric of the Universe." Clara edged closer, "The one that can make people cease to exist?" she grasped his arm and tugged him slightly further away from it. He gave her a fond smile but allowed her to move him away from it.<p>

"It's a tiny sliver of the 26th June 2010, the day the Universe blew up."

Clara felt her lips purse. "Yes, still not quite sure how I missed that. Seems like a bit of a thing not to notice. I thought you fixed it though, rebooted the Universe or whatever it was you do when you're being brilliant?" she hadn't quite meant to say that last, but she was getting more used to the truth field, there was a brief pause before what you thought came out your mouth that you could censor or at least redirect if you were alert enough.

"See I knew you thought I was brilliant." he smirked wrapping an arm around her and tugging her into his side as he returned his stare to the crack.

"You blew up the Universe... don't get a big head." She snapped back, arms crossed glaring at the crack. "Why is it still here?"

"Well it's like any wound that gets closed, it's never quite the same again, the scar tissue remains. In this case it's a structural weakness in the whole universe." He stepped closer to it again, peering in. "Whoa!" he exclaimed, pointing wildly between her and it. "And someone's trying to get through it from outside our universe, from somewhere else. Of course. Of course. It makes sense."

"It does?" Clara thought he was giving the rest of them a bit too much credit if he thought she could jump onto the speeding freight train of his thoughts so quickly. He paused to stare at her giving her a moment. "Gallifrey." She whispered, recalling the dual designation for this planet. "You think Gallifrey is trying to break back into the Universe, through this crack?"

"A weakness in the shell of the Universe." The Doctor nodded.

"So the message?"

"Is from them, from the Time Lords, the truth field too at a guess. But if it's the Time Lords..." he trailed off shoving his hands in his mostly bigger on the inside pockets and rooting around until he pulled out his hand triumphantly grasping a metal badge of some sort.

"Seal of the High Council of Gallifrey. Nicked it off the Master in the Death Zone. There is an algorithm imprinted in the atomic structure, we can use it to decode the message." He pointed his sonic at the seal, setting it to detect the signal as they both huddled around it waiting.

"If you decode it, isn't this signal going out everywhere, every point in time and space? Won't they all be able to hear what it says as well?" Clara pointed out and he paused for a moment.

"Just those in range directly around this planet, which granted is pretty much everyone. Can't be helped though." He added quietly, "I need to know what the message is." He frowned listening to his screwdrivers telepathic circuits as they digested the message. "Only it's not a message," he whispered, looking up at her in awe. "It's a question."

Clara felt something leaden sink into the pit of her stomach, she remembered this particular story of his. "The Question Doctor... the oldest question in the Universe, hidden in plain sight?" he opened his mouth and she pressed her finger to his lips silencing him. "We're on the fields of Trenzalore, where no man can speak falsely or fail to answer," she glanced upwards, "A truth field, surrounded by an entire sky full of enemies, I'd say that might be incentive enough to force an answer."

"It is fate Clara. My destiny, this has always and will always happen. This _is_ Trenzalore, the question has already been asked. I have to let it translate."

He raised the sonic and she slid her hand over his, not letting him do this alone. Together they hit the button.

The signal flowed into voices, so many voices, all of them echoing out of the crack in the Universe with singular determination to answer their question "Doctor who? Doctor who? Doctor who? Doctor who? Doctor who? Doctor who?"

"Why now, why are they asking?" Clara whispered, shaken by the eerie quality of the voices.

"A question only I could answer," he paused glancing at her and she closed her mouth, realising he wasn't the only one that could answer it. "They are searching for their home, their Universe. If I give my name, they'll know they've found the right place and that it's safe to come through."

Clara grasped his hand, squeezing it tightly. "Time Lords... all of them, back here, now?"

He looked ashen, running his loose hand through his hair. "Yes." He bit out sounding as thrilled at the prospect as she was. She knew far too much of Time Lord history and she didn't care to see it repeat itself. "And they'll bring Hell with them. There's half a Universe up there already, waiting to open fire." He admitted.

"What can we do?" she pressed, not used to this deflated side of him, he was normally bubbling over with ideas.

"Go back to the TARDIS." He handed her the emergency relocation device. "Put this in the console."

"Not a chance in hell." She bit out, feeling more than a little bit angry at the suggestion that she cut and run. "I am not leaving you." She grasped his face in her hands. "Never." She forced his wandering eyes onto hers.

"DOCTOR!" Tasha Lem's voice rang through the chill night air and Clara startled. "Speak with me!" The Doctor kept her hand firmly in his as he pulled them both up the stairs and out into the bell tower looking out over the village, the giant holographic face projected out and hung like a moon in the sky, its eyes fixed intently on them.

"Tasha." He called back, "Lovely night for a game of twenty questions isn't it?"

"If you speak your name, the Time Lords will return." Tashsa snarled the truth bluntly, the threat obvious to all assembled both on and above the planet.

"If they return, they will come in peace." The Doctor tried, clearly knowing it was futile even as he did so.

"It doesn't matter. They will be met with a war that will never end. The Time War will begin anew. You know that, Doctor." Tasha declared and Clara felt his grip on her hand tighten as he dropped his head a fraction.

"They're asking for my help!" he shouted back, imploring her.

"And if you give it, war will be the consequence. I will not let that happen, at any cost. Speak your name and this world will burn." Her threat was stark and Clara whitened, she'd seen that burnt world once before.

The Doctor stood straight dropping her hand and fixing his bowtie as he stared down the Mother Superious "No, this planet is protected." He made his own threat as he turned and grasped the bell chord, setting the bell ringing violently. In moments he was flying down the stairs and Clara watched from above as residents began to gather beneath the Tower. He opened the doors wide and strode out, the very picture of confident swagger. "So you lot, quick word if you would, thank thank you. Spot of news. Christmas has a new sheriff. Hello, everyone. I'm the Doctor."

Above Clara watched as the Papal Mainframe broadcast its next message across the sky in plain text which the TARDIS matrix was clearly translating for her as she gripped the wooden edge of the bell tower tightly.

'_The Papal Mainframe has undergone an_ _unscheduled faith change. We are now dedicated to the cause of Silence. The Doctor will not speak his name, Silence will Fall! This planet remains under our protection, none shall pass."_

"Well that's comforting." Clara muttered, turning away from the words hanging in the sky like a giant 'no vacancy' sign and headed back down to the basement of the tower and the crack in the wall. She crossed her arms staring at it intently and wondering just how it was her Doctor was supposed to get out of this alive with _any _face.

* * *

><p>The Doctor found Clara at the base of the crack head resting against the wall, eyes closed. She looked so peaceful sitting there, but he could tell from the rhythm of her heartbeat echoing through his mind that she was anything but. He stepped into the room and her eyes opened onto his as he came to stand in front of her.<p>

"What are you going to do?" she asked quietly.

"What I must. I will not let this town burn, I will not let my people burn." He replied firmly.

Clara nodded at him, although what she was thinking was being kept tightly within her own mind behind a brick wall.

"I suppose we have some idea of how you gain another regeneration at least." She pointed her thumb at the crack and the Time Lords waiting beyond it. "After all, this should be your last face right, that's what you said. You can change twelve times, thirteen versions of you?" he nodded, she always was a good student. "The War you added a number and then there was Ten's vanity issues which cost you a face." She sighed, he apparently always had been her least favourite

"It seemed worth it at the time." He sighed, wanting to touch her as reached his hand out for her, he never had enjoyed distance between them, whether temporal or physical. She grasped his hand letting him pull her to her feet and into his arms. "This should be the last face, the last version of me. This is where I end up, this is where I die." He admitted. "Even if I go on, somehow I have to come back here. My tomb must always be here."

"You've changed time before." She let him pull her into his embrace, his hands tracing through her hair as he sighed, inhaling the feint apple scent of her shampoo.

"Yes. And the Universe up and cracked on me." He muttered.

Her head rose to his, her eyes narrowed, "And what about all of this, what you've been doing with me? Doesn't this count as changing time, you changed our future, your own."

"To prevent something terrible from coming to pass." He explained.

"Your death is something terrible." She argued, blinking back tears. "Change it." He closed his eyes pressing his lips to hers.

"I've changed enough," he admitted, cradling her face, "more than I should have," he continued, opening his eyes to brush his thumb across her lips. "I shouldn't have been able to have this, have you..." her golden brown eyes were wide and unblinking up at him, he could stay forever in her gaze he realised, which was of course part of the problem. "My wife." He sighed his fingers sliding to her temple; it was a cruelty he knew, one she should never forgive him for as he slid into her mind, pinching a nerve cluster and feeling her slip into unconsciousness, he caught her deftly, lifting her to cradle her slight form in his arms.

The Doctor stood before the crack, his wife in his arms, wondering how it was he'd come to this, how he stood between his people and the Universe once more. Only this time he had something to loose, something he couldn't bear to. He turned his back on it for the moment, stalking out into the snow of the town that he had resolved to remain in until this un-winnable situation reached its end. The TARDIS door's flew open for him as he carried Clara inside, he didn't want to do this, which was why he ultimately knew it had to be done. Of course with Clara there was always a risk, he had taught her much, too much in fact. Carefully he laid her down on the floor of the console room, and brushed his mind against hers. He'd done all of this to save her, he wouldn't fail at the last hurdle. Couldn't. The suggestion was simple, he left the impression in her mind that he was just outside the TARDIS doors, that she could still reach him if she hurried after him.

His lips met hers for what he feared would be the last time as he hugged her closely, trying to engrave her face, her smell, her laugh, her smile into his memory, knowing this might be the last time he'd get the chance... in this body at least. "I love you." He kissed her forehead and pulled away, placing the emergency return protocol into the centre console.

"Take her home Old Girl. Make sure she's safe and then return for me." He patted the console and with one last lingering look at her still form laid out on the floor he turned and left as the TARDIS engines engaged carrying her away.

* * *

><p>Clara awoke suddenly, shooting up and startled to find herself in the console room of the TARDIS, her eyes shot to the panel, it held the emergency return protocol. The sound of the door slamming reverberated through her mind as the TARDIS console started up, preparing to spirit her away. Clara shot to her feet, he wouldn't do this... she wouldn't let him. She charged for the doors barreling out of them at a full on sprint, shouting his name to call him back. The moment the light hit her she realised her mistake even as her feet fell on the soft green grass instead of snow covered ground. Her apartment complex that she hadn't spent more than a few weeks in for the past few years loomed large.<p>

"No... oh God no." Clara turned in time to see the TARDIS beginning to dematerialise even as she ran back towards it, her key already in hand. "No, don't you dare, no!" she screamed slamming the key home in the transparent lock and holding onto the handle for dear life as she and it dematerialised.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

"Barnable, how's your father's barn?" the Doctor questioned the young man following along with him eagerly.

"You fixed the leak all right, but he says it's bigger on the inside now." The boy stared up at him wide eyed with a wide grin.

"Shush, everyone will want one." The Doctor laughed before he was abruptly cut off by the sound of the wheezing time rotor that cut through the still night.

"What is it? What's that noise?" Barnable scanned the area, ever alert, his whole life spent waiting for the next unknown monster to crawl out of the depths of space to challenge the Sheriff of Christmas.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes and took in the sight across the way of his ship, his beautiful blue TARDIS slowly materialising, with it came a pang of remembered pain for the last time he was inside it, the last time he'd held _her_. He hobbled towards it using his cane lightly, his aching limbs protesting as he hurried forwards, anger and relief flooding him. "Well!" he roared at the box, "Where the hell have you been for three hundred years? Huh?" he called out to it in accusation.

"What is that?" Barnable kept pace beside him.

"It's my ship."

"Your what?" the boy queried and the Doctor realised that he had been here so long that people didn't even remember he was a visitor here once upon a time, the passing of time more than anything pained him, it was time stolen from him, time he would never have with Clara.

"It's my TARDIS. That's how I got here in the first place." He explained to the boy, not slowing down.

"Does this mean you're leaving?" the boy pulled up short, watching the box now with trepidation his accusing eyes on the Doctor. But as the TARDIS fully materialised, clearly struggling against something he lost his voice, every word he intended to speak to the boy vanished as he took in the form clinging onto the outside of the box, one hand gripped tightly around her key in the lock, practically frozen to it.

Hesitating and wondering if his old mind was playing tricks on him after all he raised his cane and tapped the back of the apparition gently with it. There was no movement as he stepped closer coming alongside to see her slowly turn her face, ice crystals had stolen her colour but her eyes were wide and furious and he would know them anywhere. "What are you doing here?" he managed to get out more sharply than he intended, his anger in this moment clouding even the joy at seeing her again.

"I was in space." Comes her trembling half dazed reply and he reaches forward, his arms going around her to peel her off the edge of the ship, the moment his hands touch her body his hearts flair to life and the flicker of her mind brushes his with glorious familiarity. He should have known he realised when her hearts rhythm remained the same for so long, as if frozen; should have known it was more than distance interfering with the link, that she had 'ceased' to exist for all this time. His impossible girl, of course she wouldn't simply let him go without a fight.

"You were in the time vortex." He explained quietly, taking hold of her as much as his unsteady limbs would allow. He glanced at his ship, "She extended the force field to protect you." He clutched her closer thanking the Gods that his ship could protect her even when he couldn't. "No wonder she's late, she's been dragging you around for the last three hundred years." Anger touched his voice and seemed to touch a nerve, or awaken one in her. Clara's hand connected solidly with his cheek and he winced, holding the stinging skin and half afraid to meet her fierce gaze as her white hot fury effectively begins to thaw her out.

"You tricked me!" she accuses and he feels his jaw tense, his lips drawing into a thin determined line, he almost wants her to shriek at him, but her voice his quiet and utterly livid.

"I saved you!" he snarled back, unable to forgive himself that he appears to have failed at doing that.

Her hand rises again and he catches her wrist as they stare into each others eyes which are both narrowed in anger, their breathing heavy, he can hear her heartbeat pounding in his ears and knows she longs to tear him limb from limb almost as much as she wants to hold him. "You abandoned me." She accuses one more time and his mouth opens and closes, speechless, the touch of his skin against her wrist is lighting a fire within him, a fire he has kept deliberately quelled for centuries. Even now his clever eyes are waking up, taking in every inch of her face hungrily, starved of the sight of her for so long.

"Till death Doctor." She reminded him and he flinched, "Wasn't that the promise we made to each other?" her accusation stung almost as much as her hand and he dropped his head and her wrist.

"Not yours." He admitted, "Never yours." His voice broke and he heard her sigh.

Her hand found his cheek and he wanted to pull away, to let her have her anger with him, after all she deserved it, but he couldn't he was selfish still and her touch was like a soothing balm as he leant into it. "What's happened, how long has it been?" she asks him gently clearly she had been too frozen to hear is earlier quip, but he is aware of the anger still lingering beneath the surface, he knows this from experience, but it is tempered by her concern for him. He lifts his head and see's her eyes scanning him almost as carefully as he had her. But where he had found nothing but perfection he wonders as her eyes linger on the obvious flaws he has developed, on the wear and tear, the grey flecking his hair, the long lost smoothness of his skin... the cane he rested lightly on. Regret and shame was like a living breathing thing in him. He was old, even for a Time Lord, this body would fail him eventually give or take a few more centuries, the idea that he might be the one she had to watch die of old age was as ironic as it was heartbreaking and he saw the moment she realised it too.

"Three hundred years." He told her weakly and he caught her trembling hand with his own as it almost fell from his cheek with shock.

"No." Came her soft but plaintive cry as she covered her mouth with her other hand, realisation alighting in that wonderful mind of hers. "It can't have been more than ten minutes since I last saw you." She whispered, her eyes dropping to his face her fingers brushing the lines there, feeling the calluses in the hand that held her close.

"Oh Clara." He whispered, wishing he could take the pain he see's clouding her eyes, the way her heart is tripping suddenly painfully against her chest, his own hand rising to her cheek, her perfectly smooth skin and the slight bow of her lips as wonderful as he remembers them... and he has spent years simply remembering them. But people were approaching and he turned glancing back at the village which had become his home. Here was not the place for this, not with enemies potentially lurking in the shadows, waiting for a weakness to expose itself, looking for a way in, looking for Clara. He gripped her hand in his, "Come with me?" He asks her quietly making it a question because he's not certain she would obey him if he made it a request. She nods once and he draws her hand into his, pulling her lightly behind him as he leads them towards the clock tower he has lived in for so long, but can never consider home... because she wasn't there.

He watches as she entered his simple dwellings, her clever eyes taking in the drawings and his workbench. "Oh Doctor," she sighed smiling faintly, sadly, looking back at him and he feels a slight swell in his chest at the love she holds there despite the still brimming anger he had known she wouldn't forgive him for. "Fixing toys and fighting monsters. How very you." She admits as she walks further into the room, clearly noticing the prominent pictures of her; some just her face, others her smile, or her eyes, even her hair. His heart catches as her fingers graze the ones he keeps hidden behind the others and her eyes catch his in slight surprise at the ones where he has drawn her nude. Perhaps the old him would have been bashful, but he just looks at her trying to convey his longing, his love, knowing they are already there for her to see in every little detail of her body recalled and reproduced here. Her fingers linger over them and he sees her feint but terribly sad smile, how well she knows him; but they are all he had of her and he treasures them, surely she can see that?

He follows her as she moves until her eyes settle on the crack in the wall, her arms cross her chest and he simply admires the way the eerie light from it frames her; unable to believe for her it has been only moments, whilst he has waited so long, it is almost more than he can bare to see her like this again, like a starving man who'd been living on the most meager of rations suddenly being presented with a feast. He is all but drowning in the sight of her, the smell, the touch... his fingers reach out for her shoulder, drifting down her spine as her gaze remains on the crack. "Is it still asking the question?"

"Oh it never stops." He admits sadly, letting his fingers drop away with regret. Her head turns and he feels pinned by her gaze, the hope in it still.

"Come upstairs." He asks her again, waiting for the moment she will refuse him only to find it never quite appears, "It's almost time." He explains drawing her upwards by her hand to the bell tower. They step out onto the wooden expanse looking out over the village his fingers intertwined with hers once more and he stares down at them, wondering if she can feel the way his hearts have begun to beat at just her nearness, her touch.

"What is it?" she asks staring up at him rather than outwards and he raises his head to meet her curious expression.

"Dawn." He admits, lifting his hand to her cheek and brushing the soft skin of her face, his thumb drawing down to brush over her lips in a remembered gesture. So much had faded from his life before, but not this, not her. Of her he hadn't let himself forget a single moment. "The light here lasts only a few minutes." He explains drawing them both closer to the small fire burning in the chamber that he stoked, he lifted the blanket he kept up here and gestured to her to turn, letting him drop it over her shoulders. His hands lingered drawing her hair out and letting his fingers trail through the long tousled brown locks. His memory had failed him after all he realised with a stab of pain, he had forgotten just how beautiful she was... how right he felt next to her. Perhaps she notices, feels the utter desolation in his realisation of this because she lets out a sob and buries her head in his chest.

"You old fool." She sobs and his arms instinctively tighten around her. She says nothing else and he lets her cry quietly against him, but she didn't accuse him further or ask him why again... for all her pain she understood, how could she not? She'd been waiting for Trenzalore to take him from her almost as long as he had.

"I have missed you, so much." He breaths the simple yet utterly consuming thought into her hair, pressing a kiss there. "Clara." He sighed out the word with contentment as she pulls back looking up at him. Her hands go to his face, her own thumbs brushing over the more worn skin, examining him before she gently pulls the back of his head down and he could have cried with relief as her lips found his. He kisses her like the three hundred years it's been, his aging body suddenly lighter as he presses her back against the bell tower, losing himself in the feel of her that he had long thought lost to him. "Clara, my Clara." He moans against her, his hands sliding over her body, comparing what he finds to his memory and once more coming up short. He had thought he had memorised her so completely, but he is bereft when he realises how much of her he has let fade away.

The light changes and he breaks the kiss, drawing her forward into his arms to let her watch the sight as the village is bathed in the glow of the all too brief dawn as bird song fills the air for this faint window of time. Her breathing hitches as her eyes reflect the light. "It's beautiful." She admits clearly captivated.

But his eyes are not on the dawn, but on her. "It is nothing compared to you." He whispers and she turns in his arms, their lips find each other again and he lets her guide him back to the wooden bench, his knees buckle as they reach it and he lands heavily, his hands at her waist as she slides onto his lap.

"Three hundred years." She reminds him needlessly, even if it hasn't been for her she seems acutely aware of his growing need, however shameful, as she lets the blanket fall from her shoulders and he looks away concerned at what she is seeing.

"I'm an old man now Clara." He admits, letting his hands fall away from her sides, not sure he can bear to see her look at him differently, humans never were good with age gaps he recalls.

"You were always an old man." Clara replies quietly, "I married a 1200 year old remember, what does it matter to me if your suddenly 1500?"

The Doctor lifted his head to stare at the remarkable woman on his lap, still not quite sure why on Earth she put up with him at all, why she was forgiving him. "I'm starting to look my age Love." He sighs, surprised when her lips brush his gently.

"Hush." She whispers, her hands sliding over his chest and pushing the jacket from his shoulders. "You are my husband and it's been a very long time hasn't it?"

The Doctor grasped her hips firmly arching his own upwards into her, letting her feel just how long it had been. "I might be a bit rusty, did you bring a manual?" he asks her only half joking. She rolls her eyes and in one swift move pulls her thin jumper over her head and leaves his eyes transfixed with the sight of her lace covered breasts, his throat goes dry. "Actually, it's coming back to me now." He quips, lifting his hands to the offered globes and moaning almost as loud as she does when he encloses them in his firm grip. Perhaps it is not the most appropriate, or safe place to be having this little reunion, but he could no more stop himself now than force the sun to rise again.

Had he been a younger man perhaps he would have drawn this moment out, savoured it for all it was worth; but he was almost frantic in his need for the woman atop him as he slid his fingers into her wanting her to want him too and delighting in the way she threw her head back for him, a soft litany of incoherent words falling from her lips. Her hand encircles him and he bucks into her, her firm grip nearly too much and he pulls away, in no time at all he is lowering her over his aching member; sliding into her felt like he was finally going home for the first time in centuries. "Clara." He all but cries out, straining every inch of his control over that peripheral blood system of his to ensure he didn't simply come then and there. Her lips find his as she began to move over him as his hands gently guide her hips, pulling her against his chest to increase the skin on skin contact he so craved.

"I love you." She pants quietly against his lips the words setting off fireworks in his dusty chest, "Never forget that." She clenched suddenly around him and he bucked violently, not willing to let this end as he reached blindly between them, finding her centre and rubbing furiously as she moaned, continuing the delightful torture between her legs, her inner muscles stroking him until he exploded violently into her wet heat. Her final spasms as she clutched him to her were almost a relief as he dropped his sweating brow to her shoulder, listening to their twinned hearts beating out a staccato as they both trembled in release, the cold long forgotten.

* * *

><p>Clara accepted the blanket gratefully as he pulled one around himself and leant forward, not releasing her from his arms as he roasted the marshmallow in the open fire, grateful for the warmth against the frigid air, her body still humming contentedly to her with his pressed close to hers, as if he couldn't bare anymore distance between them. Her heart ached and anger flared at just the thought of him alone here for 300 years, the Doctor should never be alone, it was one of the great truth's every companion of his learned, she knew it better than any of them. But she wasn't spiteful enough to let her anger sully this moment for him, even though deep down she knew he'd rather she wasn't here to see him like this, to see the deep sadness in his eyes and in the slight stoop of his long frame and she pushed away the impulse to cling desperately to him.<p>

"Where did you get these?" she asked him focusing on his hand as it held a gooey sweet to her mouth, hesitantly she blew on it before taking it into her mouth and closing her eyes in delight at the sensation as the sugar exploded against her tongue. His finger lingered against her lips and she opened her eyes onto his, seeing the adoration in his eyes and wondering how it is possible for it to have grown further, she'd never imagined he could look at her with more before.

"I have a supplier." He admits, popping one into his own mouth with almost as much glee. "The pink ones are best." He adds conspiratorially, offering her one such pink one with a sly smile that is almost too much for her and she wraps her arms around his neck, inhaling him and just enjoying watch she knows is a fragile moment of peace.

They settle into each other's embrace, watching the fire crackle, wrapped in the warmth of the blankets and the afterglow of sex and Clara tries to forget that he has forced the distance of years between them, because she knows as much as she hates it, that it wasn't his choice. "So what do you think of my new place?" he asks more than a little hesitantly, his hands brushing her arms gently, almost reverently.

"It's beautiful." She has to admit, the sun dappled image of the snow capped village she was sure would linger in her memory for some time.

"I come up here once a day for a few minutes to remind myself of what it is I'm protecting." He explains with a hint of melancholy and a touch of something she things is close to contentment.

"And how is that going... protecting this town?" she asks, reaching up to touch his worn face with no small amount of concern, clearly it has taken its toll on him here.

"Well, it's a standoff. They can't attack in case I unleash the Time Lords, and I can't run away, because they'll burn this planet to stop the Time Lords. Hey, after all these years, I've finally found somewhere that needs me to stick around. A town called Christmas. Could've been worse." He tries to quip but she isn't laughing.

"I needed you... to stick around." She whispers, hating that she couldn't keep it to herself as she sees the heartbroken look he gives her and his arms wrap tighter around her as he buries his head in her neck.

"Please." He pleads and she doesn't know what for, whether it's forgiveness or not, or if he simply wants her to let them have this moment.

"Do you really think sending me away was for the best for me?" she finally breaks and feels tears splash her cheeks. "Or was it what was best for you?"

He buries his head in the top of her hair, his breath warm and welcome there. "You'd have been stuck here too and I couldn't bury you, not here, not ever." She hears how unacceptable an option it is to him and it doesn't soften her much.

"I would never have let you get stuck here." She counters, desperate to think she could have altered this fate in some way if he'd only let her try.

"Everyone gets stuck somewhere eventually, Clara. Everything ends." There is a deep melancholy there that she doesn't even know how to touch, he had promised them forever, she believed it still; however foolish that was.

"Except you." She reminds him quietly. "We can still change the future Doctor, it doesn't have to end here, not now. You've got your TARDIS back." She manages a slight smile catching his face and trying to will energy back into him, the will to fight this rather than accepting his fate.

"You really think I'm just going to fly away, abandon everyone?" he gazes down at her, a flash of disappointment that she could clearly think so little of him clear on his features and she blinks until she remembers it's been centuries for him, perhaps he has forgotten...

"Of course not." She sighs, exasperated and desperate to draw him out of this desolation, she has never seen him so defeated and yet stubbornly victorious. "But you've been protecting this town for over three hundred years. Don't you think it's somebody else's go yet?"

"There is no one else to protect it." He counters sadly.

"It's not going to be you forever. This will end the same way, whatever you do." She reminds him, if he truly is accepting this destiny then he must surely accept that as well. "We've seen it." And it would remain that way if he was unwilling to change it.

He shakes his head and pulls her closer, the fingers on both his hands finding and looping through hers. "Every life I save is a victory. Every single one."

"Damn it Doctor, what about your life? Just for once, after all this time, have you not earned the right to think about that?" she pushes away from in with aggravation, her chest suddenly heaving with the flash of anger; but his weary features and those big sad eyes of his are like a punch to her gut as he seeks to draw her back into his arms once more, desperate to keep this moment. Clara sighed, "I'm sorry. We shouldn't be arguing, not now, there's no point, we're just wasting precious time."

He raised one of her hands to his lips and kissed the palm, "Clara Love, I've been having that argument for the last three hundred years, all by myself."

"But you didn't have Old Blue." She tries one last attempt to sway him, knowing that nothing will, he wouldn't have sent her away if anything could.

"Ah. Yes, well, that made it easier to stay. True." He sighed pressing a kiss to her lips before he looked up suddenly as thunder rumbled deep in the darkening sky.

A familiar voice boomed out. "Doctor!"

"Ah look who's woken up." He sighed, dropping her face from his hands and pulling the blanket tighter around her, concealing her modesty as the holographic face appears in the sky.

"The Church of the Silence requests parlay. Your rights and safety are sanctified." Those huge eyes round on Clara who stiffens fractionally surprised that the Mother Superious seems unaffected by the passage of time.

The Doctor grins back, his arm sliding around her shoulders. "Me and the Missus will be right up." He calls back.

"I'm sending a transporter." Tasha replies.

"Nah, don't bother. I've got me motor back." Tasha gives a nod and the image vanishes, leaving the sky to darkness again and Clara blinks surprised to realise it has gone dark.

"The Sun's gone down already?" she asks hesitantly, she hadn't imagined it was so brief, even after his warnings.

"Yes well, as I said my Love, everything ends. Sometimes sooner than you think." He pulled her up to her feet as they quickly dress, apparently there was no need to be naked for a private audience with the Mother Superious for which Clara was quietly relieved.

They made their way back to the TARDIS and she paused at the sight of the small hand gripping onto it from behind. Clara raised a questioning eyebrow to the Doctor who merely smiled and walked around to find the seated young boy.

"Are you guarding my TARDIS, Barnable?" The Doctor asked and Clara sighed he always did have a soft spot for children, which was probably what had helped her to trust him so quickly herself. He was just never so good at keeping his promises where they were concerned.

"Are you coming back? Barnable asked quietly, not quite daring to be hopeful she noted.

"Oh, come on. You know me." The Doctor avoided answering directly.

"I'll wait." Came the boys response and the Doctor patted him on the head lightly, ushering her gently into the waiting TARIDS.

"They always say that." He replied sadly to himself and she felt the need to squeeze his hand gently.

"Because you're worth waiting for." She reminded him, seeing that sad little smile brighten a little as he punched in the short hop coordinates up to the Papal Mainframe.

* * *

><p>The Doctor resisted the urge to take Clara's hand as he strode through the corridors, trying to rely on his cane as little as possible; he didn't want to seem like a weak old man in front of her, not if he could help it. His fingers slid into hers unbidden anyway and he saw her satisfied smile. It had been three hundred years he reasoned since he'd been able to touch his wife... he thought he'd been remarkably restrained given the circumstance. But then his body still sang with the feel of her, perhaps his restraint was less well deserved. After all what was there to fear inside the Papal Mainframe, they already knew her relationship to him, why deny himself the simple pleasure of her touch? One he'd denied himself for so long already.<p>

They entered Tasha's private chapel. "She hasn't aged much." Clara whispered looking a little unnerved at the other woman.

"No, she's against ageing." The Doctor replied cryptically ignoring Clara's look that suggested he'd need to expand on that point one day. The Doctor pulled out a chair for Clara at the big ornate table beside his as he seated himself at the end. Tasha dropped his goody box in front of him and he grinned with delight, peeking inside.

"Satisfactory?" Tasha inquired as she took her own seat opposite him.

"Where are the pink ones?" he snapped the lid shut giving her a small pout, she knew those were his favourites.

"E numbers. You're hyper enough as it is." Tasha chastised and he rolled his eyes, pushing the box away slightly.

Clara looked between the two of them a frown growing on her face. "So, this is sweet. Middle of a siege and you two have little chats?" there was an edge to her voice neither of them missed and he reached out once more for her hand, entwining her fingers with his and staring intently at Tasha as she gave Clara a thorough once over. Tasha over the years had deliberately never mentioned his wife, despite the times when he had to his shame gone off on a tangent about her, or the days when his melancholy and the simple unending ache in his chest for the woman he loved refused to abate. He often thought she wanted to forget Clara even existed, which was a ridiculous notion, she was his every other thought.

Tasha's smile was thin. "So good of you to join us again Clara my dear. And you haven't aged a day."

Clara smiled back just as thinly. "Likewise."

The Doctor cleared his throat, not wanting to have to get between a cat fight if he could help it. Particularly because he rather thought it would be one sided in Clara's favour and he wouldn't have been able to contain his glee; she packed one hell of a punch as he recalled.

"Yes, she is quite right though Doctor, this situation cannot continue." Tasha conceded.

"It can't end either." He pointed out.

Tashsa let out an exasperated sigh. "Why did you ever come to Trenzalore?" she snapped seemingly genuinely curious and the Doctor marvelled at the effect merely having Clara back could have; the two of them had been avoiding this dance for centuries and one minute in his wife's presence and Tasha was ready for the heart to heart, as if to give the impression it was a regular occurrence. His thumb brushed the back of Clara's, seeing her expression remain completely unfazed, whatever Tasha was doing it wasn't effecting his wife in the slightest and he smiled gently before answering her.

"Well, I did come to Trenzalore and nothing can change that now. Didn't stop you trying though, did it?" he couldn't help but accuse, the wounds were old but deep and he pointed a warning finger at her.

"Not me." Tasha rolled her eyes at his ridiculous accusation. "The Kovarian Chapter broke away. They travelled back along your timeline and tried to prevent you ever reaching Trenzalore."

Clara snorted. "Well that worked out well." Tasha gave her a withering look.

"So that's who blew up my TARDIS. I thought I'd left the bath running." The Doctor quipped having long ago deduced that fact the moment he realised the Papal Mainframe controlled Trenzalore.

Clara leant in closer to him. "So they went back to change time by blowing up the TARDIS and ended up creating the very cracks in the Universe that the Time Lords are now using to cause so much trouble in the first place?" he smiled, it was too good to hear her voice again and he lifted her hand to his lips to kiss it gently.

"The destiny trap. You can't change history if you're part of it." He called out in a sing song voice reminding Tasha of something he really shouldn't have to.

"They engineered a psychopath to kill you." Tasha pointed out as if admiring the ingenuity.

"He married her." Clara pointed out rolling her eyes but not in the least bit phased.

The Doctor however was, "Since we're being so honest Tash, I should thank them I suppose, I'd never have made it here alive without River Song." he stared back intently at Tasha, who blinked slowly for a moment as if clearing her head.

"Yes well I'm not interested in changing history, Doctor. I want to change the future. The Dalek's send for reinforcements daily. They are massing for war. Three days ago, they attacked the Mainframe itself." She delivered this bombshell of information with only a trace of irritation.

"They attacked here?" The Doctor sat up straight dropping Clara's hand in surprise.

Clara stared wide eyed at Tasha, "How did you stop them?"

"Stop them?" Tasha laughed darkly, "It was slaughter."

The Doctor absorbed that quietly feeling like he was missing something as his eyes started scanning. "Why didn't you call me? I could have helped." He snapped at her.

"I tried. I died in this room, screaming your name." Tasha all but accused and the Doctor felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

"No." Was all he managed as he stared painfully back at Tasha knowing what was inevitably coming.

"Oh. I died." She deadpanned, "It's funny the things that slip your mind." Tasha replied perfectly calmly, before she let out a cry of pain her hands going to her forehead.

The Doctor was on his feet, "No! No, no, no. Tasha, no, please, not Tasha. No. Fight it. Tash, fight it!" he urged her desperately but he knew it was too late as the Dalek eyestalk shot out of her forehead and he heard the distinctive trundle of a fully fledged Dalek enter the room, diverting his attention.

"Step away from the Dalek unit, Doctor." The Dalek barked and he gave it a cold stare in return, his eyes drifting to Clara for the barest moment as she too stood up backing away from the table and the Dalek.

"You shouldn't even know who I am." He sneered at it, knowing that Oswin's hack should have held. Just another facet of the extraordinary woman he married that he had to be thankful for.

"Information concerning the Doctor was harvested from the cadaver of Tasha Lem." The Dalek replied smugly and the Doctor felt a grin break through his features which held no trace of amusement.

"Well that explains it then, why you've been hiding up here, too afraid to come down and face your Predator?" he mocked and the Dalek rolled back slightly, its eyestalk faltering. "I take it Tasha never told you how to break through the Trenzalore force field though, she'd have died first." He bit back, quite certain of it.

"Several times." The Dalek agreed sounding faintly impressed.

The Doctor took a firm hold of his rage, pushing it all into bravado. "Well, you'd better kill me, then. Go on. But before you do..." he twirled his sonic, until the message sounded out through the room.

"Doctor who? Doctor who? Doctor who?" The Question demanded in those chilling mixed voices. "I'm a tough old bird. I'll be _ages_ dying. Way enough time to answer a question. And, oh dear, what happens then, boys?" he goaded them, certain he had the upper hand in this stalemate. Right before Tasha lunged for Clara's neck and energy danced across them both, paralysing Clara in her electrified grip.

"You will die in silence, Doctor, or your wife will become the one thing you despise... one of us. Imagine what more secrets she could reveal to us of your nature. Of the Time Lords."

The Doctor couldn't help it, he felt a savage pleasure as he stared at the psychotic hateful little creature. "Oh you'd try to convert her." He snarled, "And you'd fail... again!" He pointed angrily at the Dalek, there was no way in hell he'd let Clara go through a conversion, suffer the way Oswin had. "Honestly, doesn't it bother you in the slightest that you forgot me? You forgot _me_!" he slammed his hands down onto the table and the Dalek wheeled back a pace. "You get one warning, for old time's sake. You touch my wife and forgetting me will be the least of your problems."

"You would not risk her life." The Dalek reasoned, seeing through what it thought was the heart of the issue.

Clara struggled against Tasha, forcing words out of her shaking mouth as the charge still flooded her "You'll kill me anyway. What difference does it make? I'm not afraid. I'll leave that to you."

The Doctor rounded on the two women, his eyes holding Clara's for just a fraction of a second, willing her to hold on. "You see, Tasha, that's what I'm talking about. That is a woman!" He stood inches from his wife, desperate to kiss her and not daring. His eyes went behind to Tasha her grip on Clara's neck unwavering. "I always knew you were a bit spineless, you and your pointless Church. Why did I ever rely on you? Never trust a nun to do a Doctor's work." He spat trying to stir an emotional response in the woman, for a moment he doubted he had reached her, before her hand shoved Clara and in the same gesture slapped him hard across the face. Without breaking stride she turned raising her hand palm up and blasting the Dalek's into flames with their own weapons. Even he had to admire the woman's style. His hands immediately caught Clara who faltered suddenly free of the energy.

"And she's back!" the Doctor declared trusting his wife to remain upright and grasping Tasha in a tight hug, spinning her slightly in relief as the eyestalk disappeared back into her skull leaving an ugly scar.

"You never could resist a row." He smirked dropping her unsteadily back to her feet as she glared at him before his eyes rounded on Clara once more as she bent double, clutching her midsection. Her hand clutched his offered one firmly and he drew her to him and pressed a kiss to her unblemished forehead before running his hands across her still slightly trembling limbs; making sure she was completely undamaged.

"You ok?" he asked her gently.

"Peachy keen." She muttered, her eyes on Tasha in a mixture of pity and admiration.

"Tasha you can get us back to the Tardis right? He pocketed his sonic briefly, heading towards the teleporters.

"Yes, but quickly, the Dalek inside me is waking." She warned.

"Fight it." He ordered, certain she could.

"I can't." She snapped back just as certain.

The Doctor grasped her face, "A mere echo of my wife fought off a full Dalek conversion not just some puppet show. It is possible." He taunted her hoping her competitiveness might rise to the fore, she'd been trying to one up Clara from afar these past three hundred years or so already. "Listen to me," he demanded at her slightly doubtful look, "You have been fighting the psychopath inside you all your life. Shut up and win. That is an order Tasha Lem." He didn't know if it was working but she seemed to stand a little straighter and was clearly still in control as she pushed buttons on her console as he and Clara stepped into the teleporter.

"The force field will hold for a while, but it will decay, and there are breaches already." Tasha told him, her movements quick and decisive.

"Then this isn't a siege any more, it's a war. It's all up to you now. Fight the Daleks, inside and out. You can do it, I know you can." He instructed her.

"Oh, I see. You've got your TARDIS back, haven't you? Time to fly away." She accused.

"Tasha, please. Please. Thank you." He pleaded, never sure why he seemed to find such remarkable people to fight beside him.

Tasha rolled her eyes at him, "None of this was for you, you fatuous egotist. It was for the peace. Fly away, Doctor!" she called after him as the teleport engaged.

Back inside the TARDIS the Doctor set the controls, his eyes on Clara but she was too distracted to notice the coordinates he input.

"Will she be ok?" Clara asked quietly.

"I imagine so. I'd be more scared of her than the Dalek's if I knew what was good for me." He muttered.

"So... it's a war now." Clara stepped up to him and he pulled her into his embrace, burying his head in the crook of her neck and refusing to let the truth of the moment in.

"Don't." She whispered and he tightened his grip reflexively, her mind brushing his and in his need to connect with her in that moment betraying him. She knew what he was planning. The image of his grave stark in her mind amidst the battlefield of thousands.

"I must." He whispered, wanting her forgiveness and knowing it was too much to ask, not so soon from her perspective. "I can't fight a war if I'm terrified of losing you." He admitted. How could the Universe be so cruel as to make him give up _this_ twice?

Clara pulled back to look at him, her eyes shining. "You won't lose me, you _know _that." She argued.

"I've altered time, who's to say what may happen now. I can't risk it; the monster we're afraid I might become... if you die, he will be so much worse." He knew that much was the truth. "I need you to survive Clara, you must."

"So I'm supposed to sit at home like the good wife, whilst you go off to war for what, another hundred years or more?"

"Yes." He snapped. "If you love me. If you respect my decisions, if you care at all for the future we have worked to build you will do this for me. I am asking this as your husband." He implored her capturing her face in his hands. "Wait for me. Because I will be back for you."

Clara's hands rose to cover his. "But not like this." She whispered. "Not as you." Her thumb brushed his cheek as if she wanted to take this face with her.

"We knew this day would come my Love. You've seen what will become of this world. My gravestone will end up here one day because it must, but not now not in this war. I'm going to go on. But living isn't enough Clara." He pressed a kiss to her lips, "If I am to survive after this, it will be because you were there to pull me from the ashes." Clara felt the tears falling warm and heavy down her cheeks. "Please, do this for me. I can't send you away again. I need you to do what I can't. Leave." He kissed her fiercely, trying to convey the utter contradiction ablaze within him as he clung to her.

"You know what you're asking of me?" She broke over those words, her hand on her stomach and he knew she felt as sick at the idea as he did.

"I know." He apologised holding her in his embrace. She nodded quietly, reluctantly, but she gave in to his simple but oh so difficult request in the end; he felt the moment she made the decision, felt the way it broke her heart as it had his.

The Doctor pressed a kiss to her forehead. "I need to give you something, for your protection." He admitted and she waited nervously as he turned to the console. "Should have given it to you the first time, but I was too worried I wouldn't be able to go through with it if we spoke." Clara flinched at the reminder of the first time he had abandoned her. He punched a few buttons she was unfamiliar with and a device rose from inside the console, it took her a moment to recognise it as another sonic, smaller and subtly different to his own but unmistakeable. He reached forwards and plucked it from the TARDIS, holding it out for her.

"Are you sure this is protection and not painting a target like a giant neon sign over my head?" Clearly she wasn't so sure, after all nothing like it would exist on Earth. But it would be his last link to her and a way for him to find her. He remained holding it out to her, his face impassive.

"You are my wife and I am being forced to abandon you to a planet and a people whose very nature are unpredictable at best. Please take it. It is twinned to mine."

* * *

><p>Clara reached out trailing her palm over his and curled her fingers around the sonic, a gift not just from him but from the TARDIS as well. "Will it operate just like yours?" she hesitated, pressing the button and searching for the telepathic connection that danced across her mind.<p>

"Exactly." He murmured, his fingers reaching up to trail across her lips as he seemed to memorize her face, her every expression once more.

"Will you remember me if you are gone another 300 years Doctor?"

"Don't." He hissed, clutching her face with his hands. "Stop it." He pressed. "Wife or not. How could I ever forget one moment of you?" his lips were forceful as they crashed against hers. "Your heart beats in tandem with mine, your mind calls out to me, your very timeline interwoven with my own. I could no longer forget you than forget myself." He was angry she realised, it was a simmering thing but once unleashed capable of utter destruction, his hands went around her arms clutching tightly as he all but threw her against the edge of the console, pressing into her with his body. It should have frightened her, he was the Oncoming Storm, the Predator, thousands of worlds had come to fear his name... a thousand more had come to revere it. And she had married him.

His hands grasped her waist and lifted her onto the console pushing open her legs and stepping into them. Clara gasped as he grasped the back of her head with one hand, drawing their faces inches from one another until their foreheads brushed, his hardness pressing insistently against her thigh. He didn't say a word, just lowered his hand to her waist and tore open her trousers pushing them down her hips violently as his fingers pushed into her without hesitation.

"Will you forget this?" she managed, gasping against the sensation of him, her body quick to remember the feel of him on the bell tower barely a few hours ago. His fingers within her increased their insistence and his grip on the back of her head tightened as he fisted it in her hair and took her mouth with his, forcing her silence. Desperate it seemed to stop her from saying anything else that might break him or break his resolve. Her hands lowered, making quick work of his own belt, unzipping and pushing his trousers down, he didn't even pause as he shifted his hips, his fingers dropping away as he thrust himself into her. His fingers in her hair rose to her face and pressed into her temple until she screamed out his true name; the name the planet he had just left would have burnt over, as he pushed every ounce of the feelings he held into her until she was alight with it. Three hundred years of wanting... of waiting, or pleasuring himself to nothing more than the memory of her; he let her feel it all.

"Clara." He rasped, his head buried in her neck, the wetness against her skin letting her know he was sobbing quietly as he wrapped her arms around him as tightly as her legs grasped his hips and urged him to continue.

"Shhh." She kissed his temple. "I'm here, always." She consoled, hating that this wonderful man may spend what might be his last moments alone, defending an innocent world and his own long lost one from the fear of an entire Universe rallied against him. His movements grew frantic against her and she felt herself trembling around him, the gentle strokes of his mental and physical ministrations enough to send her crashing over the edge again and drawing him with her. "I love you." She promised him as he lay over her unwilling to end the moment.

"Love is too simple a word." He admitted, gently lifting off her and with one last longing look at her helping her to right her clothing, before reaching for his own. When he bent down to retrieve the sonic she had carelessly dropped in the heat of the moment she watched his clever fingers trace along it before he handed it back to her and helped her down from the console.

"Sorry." Clara whispered to the TARDIS patting the console and sending out a mental apology along with it for defacing her quite so thoroughly. The answering beep and mental brush of quiet acceptance was more than enough. Clara turned to her husband, his head was bowed, his ever mad hair even madder from her ministrations, but the look on his face threatened to break her. She reached up and brushed his cheek with her hand.

"I'll see you soon, my Doctor." She offered in her ever improving Gallifreyan as she pressed a kiss to his forehead. Turning away before he or she had the chance to break their mutual promises as she hurried to the TARDIS doors and without daring to look back stepped out of them to the all too familiar sight of her apartment on Earth.

The doors closed behind her and the sound of the engines taking her husband and the life they had built together away had her falling to her knees, clutching herself as she sobbed into the ordinary green grass. He was gone and her heart might quite literally have gone with him, because out there somewhere in time, he was dying.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Time passed on Earth. Clara drifted, it was impossible to return to her old life, despite the fact that he'd actually returned her in decent time-frame, she was just not the same person; four years spent in space with an adventuring husband had hardly equipped her to deal with the sudden return to normalcy. Her teaching job was of course gone. She had known that when she married him, had given it up to travel with him. And she was older, difficult to explain she imagined even if it was subtle after all she'd left a 25 year old; in two weeks time she'd be turning 30 tricky given as only a year had passed on Earth from their perspective. But that didn't make her life any easier, she needed to work to live; she just didn't know what to do because in the back of her mind she was still waiting... trapped in this awful limbo. Waiting for her husband to die and his replacement to come for her.

So it actually wasn't all that much of a surprise when Kate Stewart turned up on her doorstep. Clara smiled tightly welcoming her inside her flat and handing her a cup of tea as they settled around her small dining table.

"How are you Clara?" Kate asked her gently, clearly trying to broach the subject that had clearly been on UNIT's radar since she returned, Doctor-less.

"He's gone." Clara replied quietly, taking a sip of her tea. "If he comes back, he won't be the man you knew. He'll be different... very different." She paused considering how much she should say, how much they had a right to know? "He may not be the man the Earth needs." She settled on seeing Kate's eyebrows rise into her hairline with that uneasy news.

Kate was silent for a moment. "I'm sorry." She replied finally, knowing it was utterly inadequate it seemed as she downed her own tea quickly. "But he will come back." Clara looked up to see her eyeing her sharply, the woman always was too smart. "You're here." Kate added certain of it. Clara frowned. "Oh don't give me that look, I was at your wedding remember," she smiled fondly at her, reaching out to grasp her hand. "The man has lived millennia and that was the best day of his life."

Clara smiled sadly, burying her face in her tea. "Yes well, stepping out of that TARDIS without him was probably the worst day of mine."

Kate gripped her hand tighter. "Which is why I'm here." Kate replied and Clara looked at her over the cup, assessing the way life with the Doctor had taught her too.

"Are you here to offer me a job Kate?" Clara asked her primly, the feel of her sonic in her back pocket comforting, it was always on her now.

"Of course." She smiled retreating to her side of the table and straightening her suit jacket, back to the Government woman role rather than the consoling friend. "You have spent more time with the Doctor than anyone else. Married the man. And to add to that, I'm quite aware of your 'unique' history."

"Oh?" Clara feigned ignorance as Kate quirked an eyebrow at her, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a camera phone to show her images of... well her.

"I'll admit it took some digging to determine which were the images of you 'you' in the past with the Doctor as a result of time travel, and those that were 'alternate' versions of you." She flicked through some of her clearly from the 60s and 70s, waiting for Clara to comment, when she didn't she continued. "The odd thing was all of these women had completely unique birth and death certificates; lives of their own, the majority of which seemed to be tragically cut short at around the age of 25 years I might add. Normally in conjunction with the Doctor's visits to Earth."

"Alternate versions?" Clara wasn't assisting in this, curious to discover what they had made of it.

"It's what we call them. We had some debate about it over the past year, lots of theories, the best our scientists have come up with is that you must have at some point become splintered in time. How or why you survived such an event, is not for us to say though is it?" Kate smiled at her tapping her nose as if it was a secret they shared.

"And you think I'll be of use to UNIT?" Clara asked not quite sure what she made of the suggestion.

"Don't you?" Kate asked coyly and Clara couldn't help but smile.

* * *

><p>[4 weeks later]<p>

She'd turned thirty and accepted Kate's job offer. Clara straightened her suit and clipped on her ID badge, smiling politely at the young man who led her to her new office. Unlike the Doctor she actually _did_ have an office. A fairly big one. Granted it was in the Tower of London, which having seen it back when it was used as a prison had lost some of its appeal, but she was not going to complain about the view out over London she had.

Clara reached for her desk plaque, her name embossed on it beside her new role. 'Head of Public Relations.' Inside of UNIT they added the word 'Extraterrestrial' in front of the 'Public' bit. Either way the role came with a lot of responsibility and files... endless classified files for her to plough through. Half of them were about the Doctor, the rest were the times when he was clearly otherwise engaged. Apparently he was right Earth got itself into enough trouble with or without him. But at least she was doing something, anything to keep her mind engaged. And it was rewarding work most of the time, nothing quite like with the Doctor and she was kept distinctly away from any life threatening events wherever possible she noticed. When she'd pressed Kate on the issue after one of the Torchwood units actively intervened to protect her rather than apprehend the alien smugglers trading in some rather unusual herbs; she'd muttered something about 'not going to be the one responsible for getting the Doctor's wife killed'. It would have been irritating if Kate hadn't seemed so genuinely concerned about the notion. After all the Doctor was many things, forgiving was not always one of them and he ominous warnings about what state he might be in when he came back for her probably hadn't helped the issue, for which she only had herself to blame.

Life she supposed moved on a whole month passed without her realising it. But the ache in her chest never abated and the echo of his hearts beating there and sounding through her mind was a painful reminder that out there somewhere he was still fighting and dying. So she smiled less she supposed, but then that suited her new life and career.

It was after one particularly stressful day in which she'd revealed the existence of her sonic to far too many members of UNIT, that she'd collapsed into bed, her mind still reverberating with the shock of the sonic unbuffered by the TARDIS's telepathic fields. It would take time she knew for her human brain to accommodate it without the Box's assistance. But apparently as she drifted off into a sleep, it appeared the sonic had other uses she hadn't been aware of.

"Clara." His voice echoed through her and she tossed in her sleep, clutching at her sheets as the unmistakeable touch of her husband ran across her body and through her mind. The shock of it had awoken her with a start, cutting off whatever the experience had been and she fell back, the phantom feel of his lips against her skin lingering, wondering if she'd been simply dreaming.

She hadn't been, tentatively the next night, she lay down in bed and gripped the sonic tightly in her hand, pressing the button and thinking with everything in her 'Doctor'. Nothing happened and she sighed wearily wondering if she'd ever get through this, as she shoved the sonic beneath her pillow and placed her head down closing her eyes and trying not to think of anything in the hope of sleeping.

Her dreams shifted and her body turned in the sheets responding to the unmistakeable brush of her husband's mind.

"Clara." His voice rasped throughout her thoughts into her dreams as she felt him between her legs her body arching up into him. Gallifreyan spilled from him echoing through her as she reached back for him, her hands capturing his face and seeing his image materialise in her head with each touch of her skin against his.

"Doctor." She whispered aloud, smiling in her sleep as he smiled back at her, his face the young one she remembered, the one she had married.

_"I miss you." _he admitted as his body enveloped hers and she gave into the sensations of him.

_"What did you do to the sonic... how is this possible?"_ she knew better than to ask, and he drove the question from her mind with sensation.

_ "You are my wife, we are bound, anything is possible."_ His lips pressed against hers and she sighed into him, she had missed this, missed him, missed the feel of his mind inside of hers, of his body inside of her.

_"How long has it been?"_ she implored him as he made her gasp afresh, the bed sheets twisting around her as she turned into the sensations he was evoking.

_"Too long." _He insists, driving words from them both, she wants to ask more, but he doesn't allow it, distracting and redirecting her thoughts as they occur until she is screaming out his name and shooting awake, drenched in sweat her limbs a tangled mass in the sheets. Her hand flies to her chest, the unmistakable sound of his hearts beating inside of her body and mind comforting her more than she knew it could and leaving her hollow in his absence.

Nights like that one only grew in intensity over the next few months until she was all but hurrying into her bed, desperate for the phantom touch of the man she longed for, half a Universe and eons away. Her work suffered, at least she imagined it did. More from distraction than anything else, he came to her so often, that even when he didn't she dreamt of him all the same.

"You seem distracted." Kate sat down in her office one day, her hands neatly poised on her crossed legs.

Clara arched an eyebrow at her. Despite her initial concerns and distractions she'd been working hard lately to ensure her work had remained of high standard, testing many of her colleagues beliefs that she was in fact human at all. "Oh?" she feigned ignorance.

"Tired even." Kate pointed out and Clara felt her eyes narrow a fraction on the woman in front of her. Without a word Clara reached into her breast pocket and pulled out the sonic, sealing the doors and with new purpose sweeping it over her office for tell tale signs of alien technology, something had clearly been telling tales on her. Kate looked mildly concerned by the sudden move, the guilt flashing in her eyes like a bulletin board.

"I haven't reported it." She insisted quietly.

"Reported what?" Clara smiled thinly back at her slipping the sonic back inside her jacket pocket, her mind buzzing from the disabled devices. "That I dream about my husband... hardly noteworthy."

Kate gave her a look that seemed to strip the walls between them. "That those dreams seem to create a temporal vortex detectable to certain instruments." Kate replied succinctly and Clara bit down on the inside of her lip. "Almost like something was reaching out to you through all of time and space... there was a signal that came with it. Would you like to hear it?"

Clara sighed quietly, pulling out her sonic again and holding it up, tuning it automatically to the signal that radiated through all of time and space... attuned to her as she was to it. The electronic sound permeated the office and Kate winced.

"Yes, that's the one." Kate replied looking grim and not at all surprised at her. "It's seems to be everywhere, everywhen, now that we know what we are looking for."

Clara nodded, "Yes it would be."

"Although no one has ever been able to translate it, every person who hears it seems to experience the same reaction to it."

Clara met her stare head on, challengingly. "Fear." She acknowledged, "Unmistakeable dread."

Kate swallowed thickly. "Yes and it seems this Universal mystery is following you... to Earth." Clearly Kate wanted an answer, she was worried about the planet she had sworn to protect, rightly so, after all they had no idea what the signal was, what it meant, only that she and the Doctor seemed to be letting it loose on Earth. Clara cocked her head observing the woman that had become her boss, wondering. The Doctor had trusted her, considered her a friend; she supposed it was a hell of a character reference.

Her decision made she responded honestly. "No reason they should be able to translate it, it's an encryption in a language long dead to the stars." Kate frowned as Clara pressed the button on her sonic once more. "Fortunately I was there the first time it was decrypted." The sound of the signal changed, into the unmistakeable haunting voice that had boomed from the crack in the Universe, as it echoed throughout her office.

_ "Doctor who? Doctor who? Doctor who? Doctor who? Doctor who?"_

Clara shut it off at Kate's clear distress, her eyes wide, mouth parting as she looked at her with something close to dread. "What is it?" she asked clearly not sure she wanted the answer.

"No threat to you." Clara replied succinctly. "But it means my husband left me here for my own protection whilst he went off to stand between every enemy he's ever known and a crack in the reality of the Universe, to prevent a never ending war that will end us all."

"I thought you said it was no threat to us?" Kate was always quick to recover Clara noted, her mind already strategising on how they could protect Earth from this.

"You misunderstood." Clara replied, "I meant it is not a threat you can do anything about."

"We must, we can't stand by and simply do nothing." Kate argued getting to her feet whilst Clara sat back in her chair.

"Doing nothing is exactly the point Kate, do you believe in fate, in prophecy?" Kate looked like she wasn't sure what she believed so Clara answered for her. "That signal has called him to his death, it always has." Drawing an aghast look from Kate. "On the fields of Trenzalore, at the fall of the Eleventh, when no living creature may speak falsely or fail to give answer, a question will be asked, the oldest question in the Universe hidden in plain sight. Silence must fall when the question is asked." Clara finished reciting the phrase that echoed through her head almost every day, mocking her. Kate was as silent as the prophecy demanded and Clara blinked back tears she had no intention of shedding as she thought about the Doctor out there, fighting to keep his own name a secret, protecting them all.

"I'm sorry..." Kate managed weakly, seemingly finding nothing else to say.

Clara nodded. "I knew. I married him knowing where he was going, that Trenzalore waited. I just thought I'd be there with him." She shrugged casting aside the depth of the pain those few words cost her.

"Will he win?" Kate was clutching her hands together revealing her nervousness at the thought of a Universe void of the Doctor.

"He's the Doctor." Clara replied smiling wide and trying to instil in the woman the confidence she needed to feel, but clearly the heartbroken wife left behind seeped through because Kate's expression fell. The need to see hope even in the face of those in front of her even if she couldn't feel it herself was pervasive and she called Kate back as she turned to leave, clearly deciding this conversation was over. "He will survive this." Clara called after her. "But he may not be the man you knew, the man I married. But that's what the Doctor is," Clara admitted hating the truth of it even as she uttered it, "change."

After that conversation with Kate they hadn't spoken again so candidly, Clara suspected the woman felt she had crossed some sort of unspoken boundary between them. But when Clara swept her home for the telltale technologies she was certain _had_ been there she found them suspiciously absent. Apparently UNIT was satisfied with her loyalties, and that she and the Doctor weren't trying to rip a hole in the fabric of space-time whilst she slept. Although she wasn't entirely certain that wasn't exactly what they were doing herself.

It happened organically in the end, her transfer after only six months in the London office, although she rather suspected Kate had a hand in it somewhere, pushing it through. Clara had expressed more than a passing interest in the Torchwood teams who seemed to be down on the ground, closer to the action, making a difference day in day out. Particularly when she had discovered that Torchwood 3 in Cardiff had been rebuilt and was currently home to more than a few of the Doctor's previous companions; she had read about the Hubs exploits avidly, surprised to put a face to the name Captain Jack, the man who's temporal vortex manipulator she had 'borrowed'.

"What happened to keeping me out of harm's way?" Clara asked Kate as she came to inform her of the transfer to Torchwood 3, in a purely supervisory capacity of course.

Kate smiled and grasped her hand warmly, "You seem to have a knack for it wherever I place you. At least there you'll be surrounded by other's who seem to find themselves inexplicably in the same predicament; with an equally inexplicable knack for survival." Clara hadn't felt the need to argue that.

* * *

><p>So she had moved to Cardiff. Her family had been less fond of this move, her father particularly so had grumbled about the Government's control of her life until she had quite glibly pointed out she 'was' the Government now; it hadn't helped matters, but it had silenced the impending argument. Particularly because it did give her distance from Linda and her ever present nagging about where her husband was... and how it wasn't right for Newlyweds (again only a year and half from their perspective) should be apart for work so long. She hadn't even bothered to try touching that particular can of worms.<p>

As it was she found she rather preferred Cardiff to the sometimes suppressive 'muchness' of London, or the way UNIT had seemed to shadow her there. She'd quite enjoyed the anonymity as she walked the streets, avoiding her 'government' issue apartment. The idea of trying to add colour and life to it simply hadn't appealed, she was far more interested in getting to the Hub and meeting the ever untameable Jack Harkness who would no doubt be the one reporting on her, and is new team made up of those few that had seemingly done the impossible and walked away from the Doctor; Martha Jones and her husband Mickey Smith. Apparently she would be their 'tech support' to replace Gwen Cooper who had retired from UNIT to focus on her family life; not easy shoes to fill Clara noted when she'd given her file one last look through the night before over a glass of wine. Of course some of what she knew of this particular Torchwood team wasn't in any file, but she had chosen not to mention that, but then surely Kate had realised it on approving the transfer, or she wouldn't be here.

The retinal scan was efficient as she slipped her hand into the panel for the DNA check and waited patiently as the inner mechanism of the door let her inside the compound the entrance for which was clearly taking its cues from the Doctor about hiding in plain sight, looking like an information booth. The floor opened and the elevator took her down into the true compound, Clara straightened her suit as she went, imagining what the Doctor would think if he could see her outfits these days, he'd always much preferred her skirts of course. Not that he couldn't see them when he looked into her mind on those trips into her dreams he was still taking, but somehow it never did seem to come up; they were always a little too preoccupied to deal with such things as their day to day lives... his of course he wasn't willing to share anyway.

The lift stopped and Clara stepped off it, blinking as the lights of the full body scan hit her as she traversed the corridor. Security at least she noted was tighter than ever given the last Hub had been so spectacularly destroyed. The heavy metal doors opened with a hiss and she stepped inside the control not surprised to find the team already waiting for her, despite the fact that she was an hour early. Clearly they didn't want her surprising them. She wondered just how much Kate had told them about their new team member?

Eyes turned on her and she saw assessing looks that made her think Kate had told them too much as she stepped up onto the platform, her hand extended to Martha Jones as she stood. "Dr Jones," she addressed the woman, "Pleasure to meet you." Martha grasped her hand shaking it warmly but there was a definite hesitance in her smile

"Call me Martha, please." She insisted.

Mickey came forward and introduced himself taking her hand in his. "Mr Smith." She accepted noting he didn't smile at all, or offer to let her call him Mickey, but then if she had that unfortunate name she might not either. Her eyes turned on Jack who didn't even extend his hand just remained leaning against the pillar arms folded his eyes raking over her with more than simple curiosity.

"Now I knew the Doctor abandoned his friends... but his wife?" his expression was coy and assessing as he waited to see if she took the bait, she sorely wanted to as her hands fell to her hips.

"Jack Harkness. What a pleasure." She muttered, turning away from him and not dignifying him with anything more as she took in their equipment. "Looks like you have a nice setup here, all the latest modcons." She took in the screens, the hardware and ran her finger over some of the less than 'human' gadgets that had been integrated.

"You're really his wife?" Martha asked quietly, a hint of disbelief in her voice that Clara chose not to take personally; they still hadn't moved.

Clara sighed, realising that of course they wouldn't simply let this drop. "Yes." She turned back to them. "Will that be a problem?"

Jack seemed to blink at that, as if sensing that her stance had become defensive, she had after all thought she was walking into a haven of sorts. "I see my dear husband has left an impression on you all. I'd thought he considered you friends, was I mistaken?" there was a hint of a threat in her tone that she hadn't been aware she was going to make.

Mickey smiled grimly. "Some friend, he vanished without a trace few years back, never bothered to see any of us again, or offer to help out when we could of done with him on more than one occasion. Then apparently he popped up at UNIT, new face, new man and we're all yesterday's news." There was definite bitterness there she'd have trouble breaking through; she recalled from reading her husband's journals and their conversations that Mickey had once been with Rose. Apparently that wound was old.

Clara eyed them warily, even Jack. They were like children she supposed, pouting at having been replaced. She knew it would sting. "I met your Doctor. He was... heroic." She settled for recalling the one with the pinstriped suit and sandshoes. "But he is always the same man, more or less." She added, "Unfortunately he has two hearts, I like to think it means he feels emotional pain more acutely; like the loss of friends or the life he once had. He chooses to move on rather than to dwell on it, always moving forward." She wasn't sure what that would mean for them then if she took her own logic to heart.

Jack shook his head ruefully. "And how far exactly has he moved on, how many years did it taken him to decide humans were for marrying?" his question stung, "He was always so against getting into a real relationship, always too afraid of losing something." Jack bit out as bitter as Mickey by the sounds of it.

Clara felt her irritation prickle just a little at the insinuation. "Long enough for stars to fade and worlds to be born." Clara replied with bite. "Don't pout Jack, it doesn't suit you and I'm bored of this conversation. The Doctor in his wisdom thinks I am safer on Earth whilst he wages a war without me, forgive me if I don't want to discuss it, or sit around like the dutiful house wife waiting for him to return and whisk me off to a life of adventure. I'm perfectly capable of having my own." Okay so that was mostly catty she admitted.

"Safer for who?" Martha muttered, but Clara caught it.

"Him I imagine. Both I suppose." She added, "He worries what my death would unleash in him." That seemed to silence them as they considered the implications, it was perhaps more than she should have revealed but she needed to end this matter and the threat of a Dark Doctor tended to do that. Changing the subject and placing a rather more friendly smile on her face she addressed them all. "But I'm not here to discuss the Doctor, he's not coming. I'm here and I intend to be useful, you'll find I can hold my own I'm sure; so how about you show me your systems and we get to work? I was promised Hub 3 wouldn't be dull."

* * *

><p>It wasn't dull, as advertised.<p>

It took months but the team did start to grudgingly accept her amongst them, her abilities weren't in question, but her allegiances and temperament perhaps. Apparently it took a certain type of person that needed their very own psyche evaluation system to agree to marry the Doctor; or to get him to ask for that matter (she'd seen it; it was an actual chart UNIT created just for her).

And so she'd accepted running with them, instead of him and it was different, the terror and the exhilaration because it was just them, their wits against it all, no Doctor there to protect them, to save them. But it also made her only miss him all the more as they laughed and cried together, bonding over vodka shots and bad tequila until the Hub began to feel like a place she might be happy in, one day. The first time Jack had taken a death meant for her she realised she was truly one of them, as she waited with baited breath beside Martha as the bullets were pushed from his body and he woke gasping for breath his eyes flying to hers and pulling her into a hug in relief that she was safe. But no matter how close they became, how many times they saved the planet... or a family, it wasn't the same and she'd eagerly close her eyes at night.

The Doctor had been particularly amused and pleased to find her thoughts occupied by his old companions, worried for her and a little jealous perhaps too she detected in their dreamscape, but mostly because she was having adventures without him. _"You get me like this though."_ she pointed out wrapping her legs around his hips, _"There will be more adventures between us, you promised, remember?"_ She insisted banishing his melancholy and reminding him of why these stolen moments were only supposed to be about even she couldn't help but notice the changes in her Doctor's mental landscape, the yawning chasm of time that seemed to span from him now. How long had it been she wondered... how long did he go without giving in as he saw it and reaching out to her? Sometimes she wished they could talk, actually have something like a conversation in those dreams, but either he was reluctant to, or it was limited to sensations and maybe a few words; but then she wondered what it was they could say that wouldn't leave them both incredibly depressed.

No one knew of course that she had her own time with the Doctor still, or that the way he was seemingly slipping away from her played out over her mind constantly. Martha and Mickey were very much wrapped up in their own marriage to care too long about hers, they were happy, content even she realised watching their easy exchange one day from her seat behind the monitor as they laughed quietly, Mickey ribbing her about her little habit with the surgical instruments, something about OCD that had her smiling. It was the type of familiarity, that comfort with another person that she missed, her Doctor had been surprisingly domestic when he'd wanted to be. Food had always been his particular passion and surprising her with breakfast in bed had become an art form of his. Or simply sitting together reading a book, talking and gently teasing each other about his atrocious dress sense, or inability to follow perfectly reasonable instructions like 'keep out'. Or her inability to give up on the damn soufflés, or back down from an argument or admit that she mostly liked the bow tie.

Jack caught her attention and she considered the man who'd become a near constant in her life, given as the other two team mates were paired off. He had a devil may care attitude that masked the deep way he felt things and he seemed to find trouble with an even more alarming frequency than the Doctor. Granted being immortal did help him in that respect but every time he spluttered miraculously back to life she couldn't imagine the kind of toll that futility he was faced with every day took, knowing that it was unending, pointless even. Much like the Doctor any connections he made would ultimately be temporary, because he would go on, unlike the Doctor however he was cursed to be unchanging in his onward march. Trapped. But simply by the nature of partnerships she found herself drifting towards Jack as Martha and Mickey were such a unit, even at work. And she and Jack worked well together, loathe as she was to admit it. Although there were facets of his personality she would have happily lopped off; along with his hands... he seemed to assume that eventually she'd give in to his insistent flirtations. The man didn't seem capable of being around someone for any extended period of time without needing to have a physical relationship of some kind with them, it didn't much matter their gender either she noted.

Which made it particularly unfortunate that one of the nights she'd crawled wearily into one of the bunk rooms in the Hub fresh from a shower not able to drag her weary self home after the last few days, that the Doctor had picked it as the night for one of his increasingly infrequent visits.

She awoke gasping his name, the sheets twisted around her heaving chest as she blinked blindly into the feint glowing light of the Hubs dormitory his name falling from her lips.

"I take it that was some dream." His voice drifted over to her and she closed her eyes, pulling the sheet a little higher, despite the tank top and pants she knew she was wearing, with Jack there was no such thing as too decent. Nor was there a concept of boundaries, like a closed bedroom door apparently.

"Jack. Please tell me you haven't been sat there watching me sleep." She questioned wearily pinning him with a look that said she wasn't averse to murdering him herself.

"If that's what you call sleeping I'd love to see what you call sex." Straight to the point as usual, his grin was wide but his eyes were sharp and she knew better than to try and evade him, he never did anything idly, despite appearances; he'd probably been drawn into the room by her cries thinking she was in trouble.

"I miss him." She told him quietly, almost accusingly, daring him to deny her this, but she could see by the way he was staring intently at her that he wasn't buying it.

"I thought we trusted one another Clara?" he cocked his head, looking truly disappointed with her and she held his gaze unblinkingly she honesty wasn't sure if he was serious. "Kate warned me on your arrival that I should ignore any 'temporal disturbances' that occurred whilst you slept. She even _suggested_ I disarm the sensors inside the Hub that would activate at such a threat."

Clara sighed. "Of course she did." She muttered, swinging her legs out of the bed and shoving the sheet away as she stood, noticing his eyes trace her bare legs with interest.

"How often does he do this?" he asked, his voice sharp, demanding an answer.

"That is none of your business." Clara muttered, trying to stalk from the room and the conversation, he was out of the seat before she made it half way, his hand gripping her arm firmly.

"I thought he'd let you go, like he did the rest of us... but he hasn't has he?" Jack hissed and she looked up at him, realising that it was concern that was darkening his expression, concern for her. "And to think, turns out letting us go _is_ him being kind." She shrugged out of his grip not liking his tone and reaching the door in her haste to put distance between them. "This isn't healthy Clara, how can you move on, have a life, if he won't let you?"

Clara stopped and looked back at him. "That's your mistake," she muttered, seeing his confused expression "No one but you three ever said he wasn't coming back for me." She saw him take a sharp intake of breath at the utter conviction he could hear in her voice, but she also saw sadness and no small amount of pity in his expression, he thought she was holding onto false hope. He had no idea that the thought of the Doctor coming back and not being _her_ Doctor was not a cause for hope... it was the thing she dreaded most.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER NINE**

It had been a long few days and she was sorely looking forward to the downtime, once she'd finished up with the paperwork of course. She was distracted enough that she wasn't immediately aware of Jack settling into the seat beside her and disrupting her thoughts. A fact he seemed to relish as he tossed some popcorn into his mouth, twirling on his chair as Mickey and Martha called out a goodbye, calling it quits for the evening and not intending on returning for several days, like she should have been doing if she'd got any sense. Clara watched them leave and sighed, deciding that being alone with Jack wasn't a game she wanted to play tonight and flicked her own monitor off. They hadn't mentioned the incident in the dormitory several weeks ago, but she wasn't stupid enough not to notice the new fission of tension that had developed between them.

"Good night Jack." Clara told him, getting to her feet and making to move away when his hand caught her wrist holding her firm. Clara risked a glance at him and saw his expression was void of the impishness she associated with his teasing, or efforts to alleviate his own boredom by drawing her into some sort of debate or dalliance. This was much more serious, she'd started to learn his moods she realised, working side by side with the man she expected it would happen eventually.

"What is it Jack? It's late, and I'm tired." She admitted, unsure if she could take one of his in-depth particularly probing talks tonight. Their relationship had improved over time, she might even call them friends, if he could find it in him to lay off the incessant flirting... or casual touching, which with him was always a constant threat but with her it seemed almost too personal, too calculated and had only worsened since the dormitory incident.

"I wanted to talk to you about these." He asked gently and his tone softened her a little as he flipped on his own monitor and pulled up images of her... or more accurately her echoes.

"You've been snooping in UNITS personnel files." Clara tutted letting him tug her down by her wrist onto his lap with only a mild huff as he wrapped his arm around her waist trapping her and rightly assuming it was the only way she'd stay for this conversation. It was a fairly intimate position but she'd been in worse with him and he seemed to have a talent for making even the most harmless of positions suggestive anyway. Fortunately she could handle Jack... most of the time.

"What happened to you?" he asked quietly and she heard the near desperation in it as she turned to glance back at him, clearly he'd been wrestling with this question for some time, probably spurred on by the knowledge that the Doctor had married her, he'd of course wanted to know why, what made her so special. She should have known he'd dig, particularly after he'd caught her with the Doctor in her mind that night. But she had to work with him, 'wanted' to work with him, she liked her work here and whether she admitted it or not, they were a team and that only worked if there was trust. Which meant he deserved an answer.

Knowing his fate was difficult for her in moments like this. She knew what this man would become... who he would become, the 'Face of Boe' was almost endless; she and Martha had discussed it together once in a rare bonding moment over copious amounts of wine. The good doctor had confided that she found the best way to deal with it was to think of them as two separate people, separate them entirely in her mind, that way it didn't press on you. It was also how she realised she'd had personal experience with both Martha and the Face of Boe, one of her Echo's had been there on New New Earth, trapped in a car on an endless motorway, waiting to manoeuvre into position to save another car containing none other than Martha Jones; because one day the Doctor would need her to save him, to save Earth. But she couldn't reveal any of that, 'spoilers' were always something she like River chose to avoid and she'd kept to that.

But she needed to answer him now, to give him something or he would never let it go. "You mean am I like you Jack?" she turned her head seeing his deep blue eyes shining back at her with what seemed like hope. Her hand rose and she touched his cheek, feeling the grip of his arm tighten around her waist, drawing her closer into his chest. "No Jack. I'm sorry, I'm not." She dropped her hand and turned back to the monitor to see the images of her in other lives, other times, they even had hold of some future records and those off-world it seemed. No wonder Kate had freaked.

"Then what is this? How can you be here, over and over again if you're not immortal?" He wasn't giving in it seemed. "It's not possible." He argued and she wished she could explain it better to him, after all he had not chosen what happened to him either, just a consequence of getting too caught up in the Doctor's world. But then that was the difference between them, she had chosen this, chosen to die for him.

Clara flicked off the monitor not wanting to see the images. "I'm impossible you mean." She turned back to glance down at him, his grip still not releasing her. "That's what he used to call me, 'Impossible Girl', because he watched me die, twice." She didn't need to elaborate on who 'he' was and it had always twisted her heart just a little to know that she wasn't the first one to make an impression on the Doctor, to know that he'd probably fallen half in love with Victorian Clara first.

"But you're not immortal either Jack." She pointed out seeing him flinch slightly as she highlighted the slight but tell tale signs of his aging in the occasional streak of grey or the slight crows feet lining his eyes. Not much, but life with the Doctor had taught her to notice the details.

Jack's smile was sad as he reached out much as she had and captured her face his thumb taking liberties as he swept it briefly over her bottom lip. She knew he wanted her; that he had from the start. Although she couldn't tell if he wanted her for her or because she 'had' been the Doctor's; he liked to use the past tense even before the incident, because he was convinced and seemed intent on reminding her of it, that the Doctor didn't come back for the people he left behind, even if he promised. This revelation that she might be similar to him wasn't helping her any right now in curbing his interests and she turned her head away from his touch.

"No one knows I'm aging. Not anymore. I haven't told a soul since..." he couldn't mention his previous Torchwood team mates, or their fates it seemed and she sighed, hating that he always seemed to draw her in when she knew better than to let him.

"It's subtle Jack don't worry. But nothing is _ever_ immortal. Everything ends." Being with the Doctor had taught her that.

"You know you sound like him sometimes." He murmured dropping his head to her shoulder his breath tickling her neck as he swept aside her long dark hair and Clara hesitated, perhaps that was the attraction he felt, the need to be near the Doctor again, and she was the closest he might ever get.

"I spent a lot of time with him Jack, just over five years in fact. The last four of which with him able to get inside my head and a year or so of that I was able to get into his too. That tends to rub off on you." She smiled ruefully, she didn't choose to mention the thousands of lives she'd spent in the Doctor's shadow.

"He tends to rub off on people full stop, whether he's in their heads or not." Jack replied his breath closer now to her neck.

"Perhaps you're right." His lips were hovering and she felt the need to break the sudden tension. "We do have one thing in common," she tried to bring a smile she much preferred to see on his lips than this melancholy, which only seemed to make his true age all that more pressing between them. "The TARDIS loathed me almost as much as she did you." He smirked, leaning back a fraction to see her clearly.

"She tried to run to the end of the Universe with you clinging on to the outside?" Jack quirked a disbelieving eyebrow but he had a wry grin at the memory which was what she'd been aiming for.

"Not quite, but I did get to enjoy a wonderful flight clinging to the edge of her shell as she attempted to dump me back home, fortunately given as I was the Missus she extended the shields for me."

He laughed lightly and she smirked at the memory, she enjoyed making him laugh, he didn't do it very much anymore. She leant in to drop a chaste kiss to his forehead that had him closing his eyes and his grip on her waist lowering a fraction. She withdrew and looked into his face, he wouldn't let this go, couldn't. He would never truly understand what had been done to him, or how, but if he could unwrap _her_ enigma he seemed to be hoping it might reveal his, or at least a way around it. Clara didn't want him to live in false hope.

"Jack we are not the same. I promise you." He looked doubtful. "I died. If we are anything it is mirror images, you live again and again... whilst I can only die."

He kissed her. Clara wished it was unexpected, but she had been hoping to avoid this between them since she first felt his flirtatious advances become something more the first time he had stepped in front of instant death for her and taken it as his. Clara pulled back gently, her fingers going to his lips to stop them. "Don't Jack. I love my husband." She whispered.

"Your husband left you." He pointed out sharply as she stood, his grip finally releasing her in his rejection, but only for a moment as she felt him spin her, taking her in his arms and dipping her in a romantic move supposed to flutter her heart and leave her wanting him as his mouth tried to convince her. It should have worked. In any other situation it would have, after all she wasn't immune to his charms, not many women were. Nor was she completely unaffected by them, she was fond of Jack; probably a little too fond. But she was married to a Time Lord, which came with its own set of rules. And despite his charms, he simply wasn't the Doctor.

She didn't respond and he set her upright, capturing her face in his hands. "Why do you wait for him? He may never return and if he does there is no guarantee it will be in your lifetime, or that he will even be the same man!" He was angry with her she realised, angry and pitying again, but he wasn't necessarily wrong either she acknowledged. "There is something here between us, or at least there could be, don't tell me you don't feel it Clara?" Jack persisted as they shared the same breath. "We could be so good together." She knew what he meant, they seemed to have a natural chemistry she wasn't blind enough not to notice, and when they worked together in a team it was fluid, she never had to second guess him; it had been one of the easiest partnerships she'd ever had. But it wasn't enough.

Clara took his face in her own hands and leant forward dropping a chaste kiss on his lips that seemed to startle him with its complete utter lack of romantic feeling. "Jack I might not be a Time Lord, but I married one in a Gallifreyan ceremony before a temporal schism." He frowned and she couldn't blame him for not understanding what that meant, the Doctor had hesitantly had to explain it to her before their wedding. "For Time Lords there is no infidelity, no divorce... they are bound, always. His hearts beat within me, our time-lines are interwoven." He still didn't grasp the extent of her meaning she could see it in his eyes, sighing she pulled out of his arms gently.

"What all that means Jack is that my heart _is _his. There is simply no room in it for anyone else, not like that. Even if I wanted to feel something for someone else, I couldn't. At least not whilst he lives, and maybe even then." His eyes widened and she stared at him letting him see her acceptance of that, she had walked into this marriage knowing what it would mean; she would feel the same way for his 12th, 13th, or 1st and 6th self's as she did for the 11th if by some twist of fate she got to see them. It hadn't been an easy decision to make, but she made it, for her and for him and she would do it gladly again.

"Then he is more in-human than even I thought." Jack snarled spinning away from her and Clara let him go. "Look what he's done to you, claimed you utterly and then abandoned you, left you unable to move on from him even if you wanted to. I told you before, I hadn't realised it was a kindness at the time, but at least he had the decency to let the rest of us go!"

Clara blinked back tears, hating how close his words could strike, he hurled something heavy at a nearby wall and stalked off into the back room he usually slept in, to likely drown his sorrows. Clara watched him leave, knowing that going after him would be a mistake; she was a painful reflection of the damage the Doctor could inflict on those he cared about the most she supposed. And Jack had been left irreparably damaged by his time with the Doctor, more so than any of them; it was not an easy thing to forgive, nor the fact that the Doctor had quite literally abandoned him to it.

* * *

><p>Jack didn't let on that anything had changed between them, if it had at all, and she didn't see any reason to change that; it had been weeks and that arrangement seemed to be working out just fine. There team dynamic was working as smoothly as it ever had, there had only been a few near death scrapes, Martha and Mickey's playful bickering was at a minimum, things were good. She actually felt for the first time since the Doctor had forced her to walk away that perhaps she could do this without him, maybe be happy here for the most part. Even if she did kind of live for the job.<p>

Jack was examining his screen a little too closely given as it was 9pm on a Sunday evening, which incidentally meant that her being here too at that time when they had a few days off next week was entirely his fault; that and his ineptitude for paperwork. His desk looked like the leaning tower of Pisa with the groaning pages threatening to spill out at any moment; if she didn't sort it no one would. "What are we looking at?" she asked after finally bringing some sort of order to it all as she came up to stand beside him as he examined something on the console.

He glanced at her and returned with a sly grin to the scrolling information. "I thought you were supposed to be taking the day off?"

"So did I, then I saw your latest paperwork. Great job with that." She snarked and he spun around in his chair to face her.

"Oh I know how much you love doing it for me." He smirked, his innuendo clearly intended. "That or you just like the excuse to spend your off days with me." That wasn't so much innuendo as flat out insinuating and Clara rolled her eyes with a long suffering sigh.

"Just shut up fly boy and tell me what I'm looking at." She smirked back at him, knowing he was as likely to take a day off as her, particularly given as he actually lived and slept down here, talk about taking your work home with you. She was grateful that at least Martha and Mickey had enough sense to actually get away from the hub on down days, otherwise they'd probably all kill one another.

He grinned his set of perfect pearly white's at her. "Seems a group of Slitheen may have infiltrated a local school, I'm not sure why yet." Clara nodded, not needing to hear his question to know it was coming. "Didn't you used to be a teacher?"

Her huff was audible. "So that's the plan I play a substitute and just march right in to a school full of Slitheen?" Ok so she was a teeny tiny bit excited at the prospect of getting to be a teacher again, even if it was just as a ruse to hunt down some shape steeling aliens with serious flatulence issues.

He shrugged, "Plans sound, I just don't see you pulling off the wholesome teacher bit." He also had from the start had trouble imagining her as a teacher, which given as she was used to running around with her sonic and gun these days in full on alien hunting mode, she supposed it did seem a stretch to him. After he'd had difficulty with that she deliberately hadn't mentioned the whole 'Nanny/Governess' thing to him, she didn't need to give the poor boy an aneurism, god knows he'd probably start calling her Mary Poppins... or Nanny McPhee; she shuddered neither of which was happening.

Clara tutted. "I'll have you know I was a great teacher."

Jack smirked. "I'm sure you were, I imagine there was a line of teenage boys in the front row all eagerly listening to what you had to 'teach' them."

Clara gave him a narrow glare. "Your really are an old letch, you know that."

He shrugged. "It's my thing." He wasn't in the least bit apologetic, and his charm smile was in place trying to win her over already.

"Fine," Clara snapped, "but you'll need to arrange for the spaces to open up, English and Drama."

"Drama?" he queried frowning and clearly not following her.

"Well what else would _you_ teach?" she snorted at his less than amused look. "Or are you honestly going to let me go in without back up?"

He cocked his head in acknowledgement, "Fair enough, I suppose I am a dashing sort of chap, and it wouldn't be my first time to tread the boards in a grand theatre... I'm sure I can come up with something to teach the little darlings."

"Glad you're so pleased; my second option for you was janitor." She smirked at his offended look and tried to imagine him in a boiler suit with a mop in hand, somehow it just didn't work. But their levity was interrupted by an alarm, several in fact and flashing red warning lights.

"Breach!" Jack bellowed, diving at the controls.

Clara did the same, looking for the source. "I'm reading a massive temporal disturbance, big enough to override the shut off." She barked giving him a significant look about how they had disabled it in case the Doctor came calling in her dreams. The thought spurred something and her hand shot to her pocket the telltale feel of her sonic waking up in response to its maker.

"It's the TARDIS." She whispered just as the distinctive sound of its engines reverberated through the hub. Her heart caught in her throat, he was here, he was coming back for her. But she hadn't dreamt of him in weeks perhaps this was why? A guilty part of her mind had wondered if he'd felt her preoccupation with Jack and his team and was giving her the silent treatment.

Clara spun watching as the blue box materialised before them as Jack stepped quite deliberately in front of her, his hand out protecting her as usual, like she had something to fear from it. "Jack." She whispered, as the engines quieted and the Box settled into position, her hand wrapped around his and lowered it from her path. He gave her a searching look that seemed more resigned now than anything, and of course a little excited, no matter what he thought of the Doctor he couldn't seem to help but remain in awe of the man. Clara stepped towards the Box, surprised he hadn't emerged yet.

A hologram flickered to life and Jack let out a startled shout of surprise, clearly not familiar with that particular facet of the Old Girl. Although the face was new Clara noted, taking in the woman with mad hair, wild eyes and rather tattered Victorian dress as it stared impassively at her. The fact that the voice interface was here and not the Doctor spoke volumes, Clara felt her hand clutch her heart as she searched inward for the tell tale sign of his heartbeats, finding them there she clung to the presence of him that lingered in her mind, grasping his thread and holding it close.

"It's fine Jack, it's the TARDIS." Clara told him, seeing him holster his gun, but not move his hand far from it as the holograms eyes flickered onto him with something close to distaste, clearly they weren't ever going to be bosom buddies.

"I can see that." He replied tersely but his attention was on the Box, not the hologram.

"No, I mean it's actually the TARDIS, her visual voice interface, she wants to talk to us."

"Correction, talk to you." The woman's image snapped, cocking her head and focusing in on her surroundings as if calculating.

Clara acknowledged her. "Ok, tell me what's happened?" she asked quietly almost terrified of the answer but certain something must have changed to have the sentient machine coming to her like this, given their particular history. He wasn't dead, she'd have felt that and his heart beat still echoed in her mind, she was certain of it.

The TARDIS focused her deep gaze on her which seemed to lose none of its power given her holographic form. "My Thief is dying." As blunt as ever Clara nodded, feeling something stick in her throat painfully as she stepped closer to the interface.

"He's been dying for a long while now." Clara pointed out, trying to swallow past the lump in her throat and push past the pain in her chest at the thought of it.

"No one should die alone." The TARDIS pointed out and held her hand out to Clara, behind her the TARDIS doors swung open to admit her. "He needs you and I always give him what he needs."

Jack's arm gripped onto her and she turned back to him, knowing he wouldn't try and stop her as his face fell. He knew there was nothing he could say to stop her going. She pulled him into a fierce embrace. "I'll be back, one day. We'll meet again Jack, I promise." She kissed his cheek gently her hand pressing against his as he took it to kiss the palm. "Look after the others." She reminded him gently and he nodded.

"Clara Oswald." He declared, "It has been an honour and a privilege. I will never forget you." He whispered, kissing her lips lightly that half grin in place as she smiled back at him and detached herself turning back to the machine that was inexplicably waiting for her.

Jack called after her. "Look after him, who knows what kind of trouble he'll get into otherwise?" she grinned back at him as the hologram vanished and the doors slammed closed behind her, sealing her off from the Hub and the life she had started to build there; and reminding her starkly of where she was going and why. The time rotor spun up, wasting no time she noted as she grasped the console, the levers moved of their own accord and whilst she could have assisted there was no need. The TARDIS had flown all the way here to retrieve her; it needed no assistance to get her back to him.

* * *

><p>Clara stepped out of the rather silent TARDIS, her apprehension becoming full on panic as she realised the whole world seemed to be on fire. There were shouts and blasts and people running to and fro. Soldiers with guns and Dalek's screeched across the sky. It looked every inch the battle ground she once walked through, the gravestones heavy in her mind as she ran, dodging and weaving and heading for the place that the steady thump of his hearts led her onwards to, the clock tower.<p>

Crashing through the barn doors she didn't hesitate as she all but stumbled down the few stairs to the room she knew awaited. Praying and hoping she wasn't too late. His heart beat increased and she knew, sensed that he could feel her, the proximity flaring in her mind until she can practically feel him.

"Doctor." She breathed coming to a crashing halt at the bottom of the stairs and staring in desperation at the back of the only chair in the room.

His hand fell the remnants of a wooden carving tumbling from it.

"Clara." He whispered and she heard it in her mind as well as with her ears as she was drawn closer as he turned and she felt her breath catch. Everything in her struggled not to let her tears show, to keep the pain sealed away at the sight that greets her, but she can do nothing but stare as he struggled to get to his feet. But the look on his face, the smile, the gentle adoration in his eyes, despite the long thin grey hair, the wrinkled skin and hunched weakened frame, she could see the man she married.

"Hello Husband." She managed, hating that her whole body seems to be trembling and all of a sudden she is back in the TARDIS with him the last time she saw him as he pleaded with her to leave him, because he couldn't leave her, not again.

"Were you always so young?" he hobbled forward until they are close enough to touch, his eyes scanning every inch of her face.

"That was you remember." She smiled back hesitantly, she knew how many years a Time Lords body could last in a single regeneration. The last time she'd seen him 300 years had given him a limp and a little grey... but this, oh god this; this was so many more she was certain of it and the knowledge left her hollow, an ache forming deep in her chest.

"Ah." He acknowledges with a small wry smile of his own as he reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing it reverently. His eyes closed and he didn't relinquish her hand, drawing her closer with it until she found his arms hesitantly embracing her and she sighed against him, the smell of him still the same as she pulls him closer too, trying not to damage his now fragile body.

"How long?" she asked nervously, feeling his hands in her hair as he pulled back to look at her, his hands tracing her face and clearly comparing his memory to the reality again, his soft smile breaking her heart as his fingers traced her lips and she pressed a kiss to them.

"Oh, you know, I never was that good at keeping time, 600 years I think, give or take." His voice shook and she notices his legs are trembling, clutching him around the waist she helped ease him back into his chair without a word, his mental barriers are weak though and she realised with a start that she can feel everything he is.

"It's okay." She whispers easing him back into his chair as he sighed with relief as she can felt the pain in his legs, his back, everywhere... especially his hearts at seeing her again.

"I've missed you." He sighed as she knelt down beside him, taking his hands in hers and dropping her head to his lap, making sure that her mental barriers are locked in place, he doesn't need her turmoil now. His fingers brush through her hair and she holds back a sob. There are shouts and bangs from above, the unmistakeable sounds of Dalek voices screeching overhead demanding death.

It became agonisingly clear to Clara why she hadn't felt the Doctor in her mind for the last few months, the way they had been separated with him so far in the future meant that time could move differently between them, perhaps the time between his visits to her had been years apart for him, and only days for her. But with his mental barriers in such a mess she could understand why he had struggled to reach out. His emotional state also told its own tale as he stroked her cheek, his fingers brushing away the tears she hadn't meant to let fall. He had felt old, he didn't feel right coming to her in the guise of her young husband, even in her mind, like it was a betrayal somehow.

"Shhhh." She whispered, lifting her finger to his lips and pressing them there, her hand stroking over his cheek and against his forehead, trying to help him rebuild the mental barriers he so dearly wanted to, something to maintain his dignity. "It's ok, I'm here." She offered.

"Why?" he asked genuinely and once again she felt the pain that thought brought him like a knife in her mind, forcing her to shut her eyes and reinforce her mental walls again, his tripping hearts pounding inside her with his anger and his desperation.

"Because your ship is as stubborn as you. Did you really think she'd stand by and let you die alone?" Clara almost felt pity for him at the heartbroken sadness in his expression and the hope, because neither of his girls could let him die alone.

A tear slipped down his face as he smiled softly down at her, raising his hand once more to her face. "Clara, my Clara."

A booming Dalek voice mades her flinch. "Doctor! The Doctor will be brought!" there was more gunfire and shouts from above that draw her attention. "The Daleks demand the Doctor!"

A young man came charging into the room drawing their attention and the Doctor reluctantly took his eyes from her to glance at him.

"Doctor, they're here. The Daleks, we can't stop them. They want you." Clara got to her feet she noticed the Doctor didn't drop her hand.

"Oh, all right, Barnable. Are you Barnable?" the Doctor asked and the young man looked at her in confusion and she could only smile sadly back.

"No, Doctor." The young man replied gently, but his eyes were panicked, this man this protector that had stood by them seemed to be failing before his eyes; she saw all of that in his face and wished she could reach out and convince him otherwise.

"It's okay, Barnable, don't worry. I've got a plan. Off you pop." The Doctor reassured him and the young man ran, the sound of an explosion rocked them both and she clutched the Doctor's hand tighter.

"I haven't got a plan, but people love it when I say that." He confided in her and she nodded more than a little terrified.

"I know. What are you going to do?" she whispered hoping he could pull something out of his bag of tricks; but in her heart of hearts she knew he couldn't, not this time.

"Oh, I don't know. Talk very fast, hope something good happens, take the credit. That's generally how it works." he admitted wryly, having the actual gall to smile.

"Doctor..." he turned away, "Husband." She tried instead and he dropped his head, all artifices fleeing them both as she helped him to stand, feeling how much of an effort even so simple an act was for him.

"Not this time Clara. This is it, we both know how this ends, we've run as far and as long as we can from it." his voice his firm, trying to convince them both.

"Change it. Change the future." She all but pleaded one last time knowing it was utterly futile and feeling it break her heart. afresh

"I could have once, when there were Time Lords. Not anymore." He lamented, looking at the crack in the wall.

There was another explosion that shook sawdust into the room and the whole tower seemed to groan with it. "Locate the Doctor!" a Dalek voice demanded.

The Doctor takes her face in his hands, "I need you to stay here. Promise me you will." His eyes are exactly the same she realised, age hasn't seemed to touch them, but then she has to admit they were always ancient.

"Why?" she manages pointlessly, his mind is clear enough to her on this.

"I'll be keeping you safe. One last victory. Allow me that. Give me that, my impossible girl."

Clara bowed her head not wanting to see his eyes, she never could deny him much, he didn't even try the 'wife' card, obviously not wanting to make it a request she couldn't refuse. "You impossible man." She sighed and reached up cradling his face and pulling his head down to hers until their lips touched briefly, chastely but enough to remind her of everything they had and why she couldn't bear to lose it.

"Promise me." He insisted against her lips and Clara nodded once, letting him feel her promise through her linked thoughts. "Thank you." He kisses her and she hates to think of it as a goodbye as he wipes away the tears that have begun to fall down her cheeks. With one last lingering sad look he turned from her and she had no choice but to watch as he struggled up the stairs.

She listened to him muttering to himself as he ascended, "The trouble with Daleks is, they take so long to say anything. Probably die of boredom before they shoot me." She managed a wry smile before more tears flow as she could hear the sounds from above, reminding her of what's waiting for him.

"The Doctor is required!" she watched him until he disappeared out of sight.

The moment he is gone Clara clapped her hand to her mouth to contain the sob and spun away from the lingering sight, her heart pounding in her ears, echoing his. Her eyes fell on the wall. She couldn't do this, couldn't let him just do this; she ran to the crack in the wall, its image fuelling her despair and hatred. It was their fault. They could stop this, all of this, if they'd just listen!

Her Gallifreyan was rusty, she hadn't used it for over a year, not since the Doctor left her on Earth; but it was coming back she realised thankfully as she placed her palms against the wall. "Listen to me you lot. Listen!" she snapped in desperation praying that someone was there on the other side, someone with a heart. "Help him. Help him change the future. Do it. Do something!" She slammed her hands against the wall not caring if her bones groaned with the force as frustration fueled her and she slid down to her knees as a sob overtook her; and she can't help but wonder if the Doctor in all his brilliance, ever considered simply speaking to the Time Lords beyond the crack, or if he feared saying anything at all.

"I know what you want, the answer to the question you've been asking all these years. I could give it you." she paused, and the Universe seemed to pause with her. "But it wouldn't be the truth... and it wouldn't be safe. He's spent centuries defending this world, defending you. But you know that already don't you?" she glares into the crack, wondering if she stared hard enough if she'd see the red grasses beyond.

"That question you've been asking, you've been getting it wrong, so wrong." She murmured. But she can't give his name, not his true name, if she could he would have done it himself by now and she won't betray him, not like that, not now. "His name you see, his name _is_ the Doctor. It's all the name he needs. Everything you need to know about him. And if you love him, like I do and you should." She insisted knowing with every fibre of her being that they should, "Then help him. Help him." She pleaded into the crack, her lilting Gallifreyan breaking at the end until she is pleading in English with the long lost Time Lords. Pleading for her husband who is slowly dying overhead, his tripping heartbeat struggling as she searches for it within her. Unable to bear it Clara turned away from the crack, so it startled her when she heard it snap shut the muted glow from it cutting of, staring at the smooth expanse of the wall her eyes widened with mild horror, and a blossoming hope.

'_Please'_. She pleaded with whatever deities were listening. _'Please let them help him.'_ Without hesitating Clara ran from the room charging up the stairs to join the villagers that were amassing outside and it doesn't take her long to realise why, as she like them turned to stare up at the Doctor on the bell tower above, facing down a sky full of Daleks.

* * *

><p>The Doctor relied heavily on his cane as his breath rattled in his chest from the effort of climbing the steps. "Sorry I'm a bit slow. I may not be at my best right now." He smiled almost at the irony of that as he sat down in the chair, watching the destruction bought on a world he was supposed to be protecting.<p>

"You are dying, Doctor." The Dalek voice taunted

"Yes, I'm dying. You've been trying to kill me for centuries, and here I am, dying of old age. If you want something done, do it yourself." He can't help the bitterness that clouds his voice at the words and the fact that it will be the Daleks that end him

"You will die, and the Time Lords will never return." The scorn is clear in the Dalek voice, beautiful hatred they once called it, it still just makes him sick. But he notices with a smirk they are still talking about killing him and not actually doing it.

"You still can't work up the courage to shoot me, can you? You're still worried I've got something up my sleeve." He waved his cane at them, before dropping his head in defeat "Well, you knock yourselves out, boys. I've got nothing this time."_ What can he do, he is weak now, his body failing, Trenzalore is burning and the future is pressing behind his eyes_. The sounds of screams force his head away not able to watch further destruction it has been his entire existence for so long;,instead his eyes fall to the one face in the crowd he wants his last sight to be of... his Clara as she stared back up at him. He'd tried to save her, to keep her from seeing this, but fate never was kind to him why would it start now?

His eyes were drawn overhead, to the impossible sight of the crack as it tore apart the sky and he raised his head, Clara's gaze following his. His mind flicked to hers briefly straining across the distance and using more strength than he should, but he feels her elation that somehow her plea had been answered... _'her plea?_' He has only a moment to wonder what his impossible wife has done before golden regeneration energy spiraled out and heads straight for him, he has a moment to consider it, to think about rejecting it before it is upon him, but it hits and he inhales it. The energy suffused him and he stared at his glowing hands in surprise. So it was happening, his 12th incarnation, 13 regenerations... _he_ was coming.

"You will die now, Doctor. This is the end of you." The Dalek declared, confident of its victory, seemingly ignorant of what had transpired and the Doctor raised his head, staring beyond the Dalek to watch as the crack vanished. He feels a pang of something, not quite sadness as he realises his people were so close and they are gone again; but their gift remains pouring through his cells, giving him strength.

"The rules of regeneration are known. You have expended all your lives." The Dalek barks, seemingly thinking this is a trick, some last ditch attempt on his part to pretend to be regenerating. He can't help but grin gleefully back at them.

"Sorry, what did you say? Did you mention the rules? Now, listen. Bit of advice boys. Tell me the truth if you think you know it!" He shouted back, almost preaching to them now, "Lay down the law if you're feeling brave." He waved his cane at them, energy all but bursting from him, "But, Daleks, never, ever tell me the rules!" he bellowed.

"Emergency! Emergency! The Doctor is regenerating!" the Dalek shrieked and he laughed wildly. Now they get it! Now they remember what he is, why they feared him and his people. He slid across the rooftop, the years feel like they are receding from him, his knees are strong and his back straight.

"The Doctor is regenerating!" they shriek again in panic and it is music to his ears.

"Oh, look at this. Regeneration number thirteen." He swings his cane madly around like he's winding up to an explosion. "We're breaking some serious science here, boys. I tell you what, it's going to be a whopper!"

"Exterminate! Exterminate the Doctor."

"You think you can stop me now, Daleks? If you want my life, ha, ha, come and get it!" he held up his arm to them palm outstretched and the energy lept from him in a stream straight into the floating Dalek vessels. He can hear Clara and the villagers bellow him running for cover inside the clock tower as he raised his other arm and more energy shot from his hand as Daleks begin to tumble to the ground.

"Love from Gallifrey, boys!" he taunted as he finally aimed both of his hands up into the Dalek Mothership, drawing forth the full might of the new set of regenerations, all that energy, just waiting inside of him. The blast is dazzling and he watches in satisfaction as the shockwave rips through the remaining Daleks on the ground, rocking his TARDIS as it travels out of the town taking anything else it finds with it. He can do nothing but watch then his eyes wide, energy still dancing across him as silence finally falls.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER TEN**

**Authors Note: **_**Many thanks to everyone who has reviewed and favourite/followed this story it's great to know people are enjoying and eagerly awaiting updates. Just to allay the fears of any spoilerphobes I have **__**not**__** read the new scripts for Doctor Who S8 so I won't be revealing anything here that isn't available in the teasers/trailers. I have also obviously decided to deviate from what is going to be the canon nature of Clara and the 12**__**th**__**'s relationship which has been revealed teasingly in interviews from the World Tour. Although I'll admit I am interested to see how that will play out because I think it might also be glorious, if different, to what some Whouffle shippers hoped. And now without further delay, as you've been waiting so long for him to make an appearance goodbye Doctor no11... hello Doctor no12.**_

* * *

><p>Cautiously Clara headed outside to survey the damage, there was debris and destroyed Daleks everywhere as slowly the villagers followed her lead. Her eyes were drawn to the clock tower which has been blown apart. "Doctor?" she called out, her mind searching frantically inside and out for him, her head pivoted in the direction she felt him... his TARDIS.<p>

Her feet moved fast over the snow covered ground, tricky in the pencil skirt and blouse she'd worn for work this morning, her heels skidding as she ran to the doors, the external emergency telephone is hanging off the hook as she came to an ungraceful stop inches from the wooden surface. Clara lifted the receiver hesitantly, before replacing it on the hook and closing the panel. The Doctor was inside, but she hesitated not certain what would greet her, or _who_.

With trepidation she pushed open the door and headed inside. As she walked she past his discarded winter clothes, the heavy purple jacket she remembered him pulling on when they first set foot on this awful planet. Her eyes lingered on the nearly empty bowl of custard with a few fish fingers still sticking out of it with a feint feeling of hope. Footsteps drew her attention and she turned to the stairs, her heart in her mouth as he appeared... and it's _him. _Her heart was pounding now as she took in the ridiculous bow tie, the tweed jacket and the soft smile he seemed to reserve only for her.

"Doctor." She all but whispered, launching herself towards him, her relief palpable, in that moment she didn't care how or why, her brain can't process the enormity of it, all that she cares about is that he is still here.

He caught her in his arms, holding her close. "Clara, my Clara." He drops his head to hers and kisses her hair, rocking her gently, neither of them seeming to want to break the embrace.

Clara listened to the sound of his faltering heartbeat and her smile falls as she presses a hand to his and chest; golden energy reaches back for her and danced along her hand. "It's not over is it?" She whispers quietly, unable to hide her heartbreak, even for him.

"No my Love. This is just the reset." He replied turning to push some levers on the TARDIS console, setting them to flight, and she realised she didn't care where just so long as it was away from this godforsaken place. He turned back to her, his hands rising to capture her face in his, she closed her eyes as his lips pressed against hers and she tried to forget that this might well be for the last time. He pulled back reluctantly and his thumb lifted to trace her lips, before rising to wipe away the tears she couldn't stop. "I just wanted to do that one more time... like this, as me." He smiled gently at her and she nodded back, trying to smile back, not wanting to not make his last moments a wash of tears.

"He's coming." He pulled her closer and she nodded.

"I know. But he'll still be the Doctor. Have faith." She promised him, promised herself and he nodded _'even if he won't be my husband' _she quashes the thought, unwilling to let him see it.

"You need to move away." He whispered against her skin still not releasing her from his arms and she realises he doesn't seem able to do it himself. It takes every bit of willpower she has to slip out of his arms, but even then his hand snakes out and catchers hers, drawing her gaze back to his as they stare back at one another. His entire body is glowing and she can feel the incredible energy dancing across her fingers, threatening to burn her with him.

"What if you're so different you forget me... forget yourself?" she gave in feeling her heart breaking as she admitted her fear, unable to keep it from spilling from her lips as she stood confronted by the moment.

"We're all different people, all through our lives. And that's okay, you've got to keep moving. But that's the trick Clara, to remember all the people that you used to be. I promise I won't forget one line of this. Not one day. I swear. I will always remember when the Doctor was me." But his smile his a heartbroken thing as their fingers separate and she is forced to back away into the console to put distance between her fragile human body and the spiralling energy he can't contain much longer.

"I love you." She promised. "I always will."

He nodded, smiling genuinely at the thought as he slowly pulls off his bowtie and stared at the strip of material before he let it slip through his fingers, fluttering to the floor, he raises his head his green eyes lit from behind with gold now, "And I will always love you. My Clara, my Impossible Girl... goodnight."

Those are his last words and she clapped her hand over her mouth in shock as his head jerked back violently and his heartbeat flat-lined in her mind, leaving her clutching her own chest in agony; but she kept her eyes fixed on the blinding white gold light. In less than a blink he was enveloped in it and then his head shot forward the light retreating and he's was just _gone_...

Her husband was gone. Her eyes widened as she was left to wonder if _her_ Doctor remained?

A stuttering heartbeat started up behind her eyes and she felt the pain in her chest abate as it set itself to a new rhythm, to his rhythm; which meant they were bound still... but she was still too shocked to know how to feel about that, whether it was relief or terror. This man she didn't know but had her entire attention righted himself and instinctively she took a step back; her eyes lingering on his head of silver tight cropped hair as his eyes swivelled about the room until his eyes locked on hers, piercing blue now not green she notes, finding the difference unnerving. He stalked forward and she held her breath not knowing what to expect as he approached her, only to have him pull up short clutching his side..

"Kidneys!" he barked, his Scottish burr evident but no less a surprise. "I've got new kidneys." He stumbled towards her and she stepped back further into the console, not sure yet what to make of him as he came to a stop mere inches from her. "I don't like the colour." The statement is plain almost like he expects her to do something about that, but beneath it inside that intense stare she can see confusion and pain dancing across his features.

"Of your kidneys?" she asked quietly with trepidation, her eyes scanning his face looking for anything that reminded her of the man she married and finding nothing, not even the eyes. His hand reached out to touch her cheek, stealing her breath as his eyes widened fractionally as if in recognition.

Suddenly the TARDIS lurched to the side violently, steam escaped from the console and the lights shifted in colour. The new man, this new Doctor spun away from her to face the console.

"What's happening?" she shouted over at him in mild panic.

"We're probably crashing." He admitted his accent still jarring her.

"Into what?" she snapped not sure if she was angry or despairing in that moment as she made her shaky way to the console as he began to flip levers haphazardly and in what she recognised to be no sort of order.

"Stay calm." He instructed looking up over the console at her. "Just one question." He seems expectant, "Do you happen to know how to fly this thing?"

Clara gave the comment a beat, the unfamiliarity in it, before she lunged for the emergency controls and stabilisers, hoping to land the damn thing before it did indeed crash, and knowing her luck it would probably be somewhere unpleasant. He took a step back seemingly startled that she could indeed fly the 'damn thing'; somehow she didn't think his mental connections were firing on all cylinders yet, but then her hazy memory informed her that it had been a very fast regeneration transition moment; no wonder it had scrambled a few things. Thankfully the TARDIS seemed to be responding to her urgent and ill practiced ministrations as she landed with a thud that rattled her teeth, the bong letting her know they were down but not necessarily well. Clara glanced at the scanner, they were on Earth, it could have been worse, a lot worse.

Clara sighed slamming the parking brake on and turning back to the new Doctor; he was close, too close and she startled, almost shrinking back into the console as he stepped into further non-existent space between them. His eyes were narrowed and he was examining her again as if he only half recognised her, or didn't at all, which was more concerning.

"Doctor?" she asked gently and he quirked an eyebrow.

"Am I?" He replied quietly almost amused as he leant closer. "What are you?"

The question stung, particularly the 'what' of it rather than a 'who', but she focused on his most likely scrambled neurones, after all he'd forgotten the TARDIS too, of course it could take time to come back, he'd probably deleted half his languages too, maybe even cooking, who knows he might have gained dancing.. or balance.

"Clara." She replied calmly, his hand hovered again just off her face as if he wanted to touch her but had lost some of his earlier boldness, or perhaps he just wasn't sure if she'd bite. But this was her husband, she'd been convinced she'd lose him, if not the Doctor in the regeneration but his tripping heartbeat inside her mind reminded her otherwise, the bond as strong as ever. Which meant that face change or not, this was the man she'd loved and still did love somewhere inside this stern Scottish exterior; she reached down and gingerly touched his hand, wrapping her fingers around it. He flinched which she didn't take as the best sign and it took all of her nerve to keep her hand there.

"What do you remember?" she asked gently; trying to swallow down the grief for the man in the bowtie, the remnants of which still lay on the floor discarded but not forgotten.

"A millennia of war." Was his gruff somewhat abrupt response; she supposed a thing like that would probably stick in your memory, but his eyes were on their joined hands she noted with a faint flicker of hope at his confused expression, as his thumb seemed to brush quite apart from his conscious control over the back of her hand.

"I can probably help with that if you let me?" she offered and he quirked a rather substantial eyebrow at her, disbelievingly. "Do you remember regenerating?" she tried a simpler tack and his expression darkened.

"I'm a Time Lord suffering regenerative neuronal disconnect, I'm not brain damaged." He snarked and she nodded trying not to feel somewhat exasperated already, remembering that this was supposed to be a darker version of her Doctor. She might not have the luxury of time if their plan hadn't worked, which given as he didn't remember her, or that they were married was not looking too good right now. Images of what she had glimpsed in the Doctor's nightmares threatened to spill out and she hastily shoved them away, only the image of herself terrified and wide eyed with madness in a cell of his making lingered and she closed her eyes a beat. She would not become that, she would not let him do that to either of them.

With fixed resolve, Clara raised her hand to his face and looked for permission to reach out and touch him, he gave the barest of nods and she touched her left hand to his cheek, it was smoother than she imagined given the new lines, but having seen her husband so old barely ten minutes before he looked practically spritely. Her fingers rose to his temple and she leant in close until their gazes locked, but his mental barriers were solid, like a brick wall. "You need to let me in." She requested and he snorted in derision.

"I don't know you lass." There was just a hint of a threat in that she noted, seeing his eyes trail over her with what she thought might be suspicion.

"You also don't know the ship you've been piloting for the better part of 2,000 years; how about we just work with the notion that you don't know a whole hell of a lot at the moment." Ok so she couldn't help letting the exasperation seep through, but she needed to connect with him, if nothing else to get a sense of the nature of the man she was still bound to for the rest of her life, even if her human heart was still struggling to accept the concept of that now presented with it.

"Ooh feisty." He muttered, eying her with something close to interest.

"And your snarky." She added, "I'll forgive it given the regeneration."

He lifted an eyebrow seemingly trying to work out if she was serious or not, but she couldn't decipher any of his expressions they were all completely new and foreign to her, his face might as well have been a mask for all she could take from it. He slid closer and she inhaled as their chests almost bumped but she refused to step back.

"Clara wasn't it?" he asked, the smirk on his lips making her wonder if he was simply playing with her or if he was just trying to convince her that's what he was doing. "I don't know if I can trust you; don't even know if I can trust me yet." He replied clearly he hadn't lost any of his stubbornness she noted. However Clara glanced down, his hand was still wrapped around hers, gently stroking it; he followed her gaze and his brow furrowed clearly he got her point because he gave her a look that said it didn't prove anything as he deliberately released her hand.

"I'm your wife and your friend." She explained seeing his expressive eyebrows rise this time as his eyes widened in mild surprise that he was quick to cover with a scoff, apparently whatever he'd thought they were to one another, it clearly hadn't been that. His hand roughly grasped the one she still held resolutely to his face by the wrist and pulled it free, his eyes bore down into her as he seemed to search her face and his own memories for any hint of her.

"Prove it then lass. Kiss me like I'm your husband." His smirk was cruel she realised as she stared back at him, her eyes dropping fractionally to his lips as she wondered if she could. He was her husband, everything in her mind and heart which had been so affected by the Time Lord bonding ceremony tried to convince her of it... but she was also human, and her husband was not the man standing in front of her, he was the one she'd just watched die. But his expression was becoming more of a sneer and his grip on her wrist almost bruising. She had wanted him to trust her to open up to her and let her into his mind, perhaps if she was distracting enough, she might just get her wish, or maybe the kiss would spark a memory. Hesitantly she leant forward and he flinched, his eyes wide. Clara watched him with fascination, he hadn't expected her to comply she realised slowly trying to imprint the way he looked when surprised into her memory for later. Her free hand rose and slid around the back of his head into the light dusting of silver hair, it was softer than she imagined, but then he always did have great hair no matter the face, as she held him from retreating further. Their lips were inches apart and she saw his gaze drop to her lips for just a moment. Whatever he did or didn't remember, some part of him clearly wanted her to kiss him.

There was no more time for hesitation, she sensed him tensing, as if to bolt. Lifting onto her tiptoes Clara sealed the distance between them stepping into his body and pressing her lips firmly to his. He was rigid beneath her, his lips unresponsive as she gently caressed them with her own. When he failed to respond and his mind remained a closed and locked door, she redirected. Her lips traced down his jaw, behind his ear to his neck where she kissed gently. His hand released her wrist and she pressed her palm against his chest.

A new instinct overtook her and given as her heart and mind were a car wreck at the moment she chose to trust it as she gave into the desire to make this seemingly unflappable unfeeling version of him respond, to feel something. "Can't you feel our hearts in tandem?" she whispered, pressing her chest closer to his, her own heartbeat slightly wild and erratic with grief and a small amount of fear.

His hands were curled into fists at his sides she noticed, his back ramrod straight, light this she realised he was taller than he had been, slighter yet somehow he seemed to fill up the space in front of her more, like he drew every inch of your vision to him. But resistance screamed from him, although whether he was truly resisting her, or the Doctor's memories she wasn't sure. As she stared up into his pitiless blue eyes she was never more aware than in that moment feeling his hearts beating beneath her fingers with the feel of his hair, that this might well be the Valeyard. She couldn't accept that, she had to convince him to remember who he was; that was why she was here, what he'd trusted her to do. Her hands dropped to his clenched fists and she smoothed over them feeling them slacken slightly, as she raised them to her hips. He wasn't resisting her physically at least, not really, she took that as an encouraging sign.

"I'm yours remember." She offered him quietly, praying that the man before her would emerge the Doctor. Her hand slid up his chest and he watched the path of her touch with interest as it rose to his neck and gently she drew his head down further with gentle pressure until her lips could press against the shell of his ear. "And you are mine." She added, feeling his hands grip her waist firmly as she was pulled more closely against him and she knew he would be able to feel the tell tale increase in her heart rate, even if he was trying to deny their bond.

"Tell me Clara." He breathed his head turning so their lips almost brushed as he spoke as he seemed to relish the way her name sounded on his new tongue. "Am I a good man?"

Clara didn't blink, but her answer was careful as she felt the powerful rhythm of his new heartbeats against her, his grip vice like around her hips was almost bruising, it was like holding warm steel against her she realised. "I don't know." She answered quietly. "You _were_ a good man. But I don't know _this_ you yet."

His smile was thin. His hand left her hip and rose to her face where he caught her chin, turning her head gently from one side to the other as if inspecting her, before setting her gaze back on his; his thumb rose to brush over her lips, tracing the outline, her eyes didn't leave his, even though the sensation made her want to let them flutter shut and simply absorb the gentle touch. "Do you love me then?" he enquired "This man you don't yet know?"

Clara didn't dare move as his other hand rose from her hips to her lower back, pressing her closer into him as his leg slid between hers, trapping her thoroughly between him and the console. "I love my husband." Was her only response. "I love the Doctor." She added in Gallifreyan this time and she swore she saw a flicker of recognition spark to life behind his eyes as his finger left her lips and trailed down her throat slowly to her chest, then further until he reached her heart where he pressed his palm firmly over it.

"You're human?" He replied with what seemed like surprise, clearly her single heartbeat hadn't been what he was expecting, but she wasn't sure what to make of his expression, whether he found the idea abhorrent or exciting, the Doctor had always been cagey about what the Time Lords thought of interspecies marriages to supposedly 'lesser' beings and her memories had never supplied her with an answer, or perhaps she'd simply never wanted to look for it.

"Let me help you to remember." She pleaded pushing aside his question as she reached her hands up to cradle his face once more. "Let me show you everything." She insisted closing her eyes. She startled when his lips pressed against hers with firm pressure and her eyes snapped open onto his as he held her close.

"I thought I told my wife to _kiss_ me like she meant it?" He gave her moments warning as his lips took hers again and where he had been unresponsive before she opened her mouth to his, exploring him more delicately then he seemed to want to explore her, until she had no choice but to respond with the same level of fervour as he sought to devour her. This side of her husband she remembered; this side of him she could control.

Her hands pulled at the tweed jacket, it was too large on his slightly thinner frame as she tugged it from his shoulders and let it fall to the floor as she pushed aside the bracers, sliding her hands into his shirt and discarding the buttons as she went. The moment her hands touched his flesh he bit down hard on her lip to restrain the gasp she was all too familiar with. The skin was new her fingers traced it with fascination until his hands caught hers, tugging them away and pinning them to his chest in one of his. She remembered this part of him too. Clara felt a flash of fear, she didn't know if she could trust this man like she had the man she'd married; he seemed to sense it, his eyes dancing with laughter as he broke their kiss and she scrambled for breath, her chest heaving her lips swollen beneath the force of his. But still his mind was a barrier she realised as his leg slid higher between hers until it brushed her sex tauntingly. Her startled expression clearly amused him, as she sucked in a breath and he lowered his lips to her ear and she focused on the smell of him, he smelled the same... exactly the same. Her head fell back as she gave into the feel of his hands tracing over her torso and down to her hips. If this was what it took for him to remember then she was happy to give it to him; if nothing else as the scent of him pervaded her senses, she could close her eyes and imagine it was the 'other' him.

"Have we done this often Clara?" He whispered that gruff accent of his ruining the illusion as his lips dropped to her neck and he bit down hard enough to mark. But the touch of him was almost enough to convince her broken heart that he might be the man she needed him to be, the man she'd just lost.

"Yes." She replied without hesitation as she felt the hard length of him press against her stomach still constrained by his clothing. His lips rose to hers again and she kissed him firmly closing her eyes as his hands rose until the sensible work blouse she'd worn this morning for the Hub was unceremoniously lifted over her head and discarded on the floor adding to the pile. It seemed like the man before her also had a weakness for her skirts, he didn't try and remove it, just hiked it up her bare legs his hands rounding to her ass where he squeezed firmly; his hips pressing against hers insistently. His expression was curious as she opened her eyes onto his, like he kept expecting her to push him away, to run or shudder in revulsion from his touch. He expected her to hate him she realised quietly, which meant there was clearly a memory sparking in there somewhere.

Boldness overtook her and she slid her hands to his lower back, pressing his hips more thoroughly against her centre, her lips falling open with the soft sound of a moan at the unexpected rush of arousal she felt. "I'm yours." She held his gaze, letting him see the promise in it as she captured one of his hands in hers and deliberately pushed it between her legs. "Show me you're still my husband." She levelled with a challenge all of her own this time.

His breath seemed to catch at the wetness she knew he'd find there as his fingers roughly pushed aside her underwear and she threw her head back at the touch of his long hard fingers against her. His mouth lowered to her throat and down, kissing a path to her bra, Clara didn't hesitate, unclasping it for him and tossing it aside so he could claim a breast with his mouth. Her moan against him was wanton as he rubbed her furiously setting a wild pace that had her thrusting her hips against him as his teeth teased her nipple. Memories of the last time they had done this coursed through her, a different man but his touch against her was the same she realised with elation. The dreamscapes she had invited for the past year had perhaps done nothing more than put her into a constant state of loss and set loose a deep un-sated yearning for his touch. She ran her fingers through his hair, savouring every second of contact his skin made, every starved neurone he fired with utter conviction.

Perhaps she should have felt like she was cheating on him, on a man who's clothes he was still mostly wearing, a man that had died to protect what he believed in. But he was still here; she couldn't grieve when he was still standing before her, his fingers sliding into her with insistent purpose, his mouth finding hers and kissing her like they'd really spent the past thousand years apart. He was in there, she was certain, it was just a little jumbled and lost, she'd help him find it.

Her hands fumbled with his trousers, trying to maintain a sense of control as he worked her to a fever point, her muscles clamping down around him and quivering as she let out a gasping cry as he pulled her close, his mouth finding hers again as if to swallow her orgasm. The barrier in his mind flickered for just a moment as he kissed her soundly and Clara recoiled at the turmoil within it with a sharp cry of pain. But just as he she had felt his thoughts, clearly he had felt hers and she felt him grasp for them, sliding into her mind, clutching at memories and feelings greedily until she was trying to force him out. "Stop." She pleaded, "Stop, too much, too fast, please." She heard herself plead inward and outward as he sought to devour her mind much as he had her mouth. Then he hit the wall of her Echo's and retreated with a hiss, as if he'd burnt his fingers and she sighed in relief against him as he clutched her head to his chest, his fingers stroking through her hair.

"Impossible girl." He whispered and she stilled, hearing it from him brought a shiver to her skin and she turned to look up at him, wondering if he remembered now, but she could still see the swirling madness behind his eyes as it fought to make connections to make him the man he would become. He wasn't done cooking yet, not by a long shot.

Their eyes locked as they both tried to figure the other out, but the air was thick with tension and her body was already screaming with the need to finish what he'd started, she might not be able to read his expressions yet, but she had no problem detecting the desire and lust as they darkened his eyes. In one swift movement he spun her around pressing her with force into the centre console his hand between her shoulder blades until she was bent over. She heard him free himself from the trousers she had already made a start on and in the next moment she felt the coolness of his skin against the back of her legs. "Hands." He growled and she didn't need to ask what he wanted, what he needed, trying to suppress her trembling, which was only partly in fear, she raised them above her head and clasping them together as she felt his hand encircle them; pinning her down and holding her fast. She wanted to trust this man, but trust was earned, which meant she needed to give him rope and hope he didn't hang himself with it.

"Did I do this often?" he rasped pressing a kiss to her neck as he leant over her letting her feel the full weight of him against her. "Fuck you against the console?" his spare hand traced the curve of her ass until he dipped once more between her legs, nudging them apart with his knees.

The vulgarity from him was a shock she hadn't expected but she found her body tightening in anticipation almost on reflex as she glanced back at him, seeing the same anticipation on his face, the clear lust, but also the confusion as he fought his own memories. "No." She breathed, recalling only once with his last face against the console in desperation, their last time together, she wondered if that was the point, if he was trying to replace her last memory of them together. His eyebrows rose in delight however at her answer but his eyes drifted to hers as if waiting for her to elaborate, swallowing she took a breath, "You used to like to fuck me against the doors." It wasn't the way she'd usually speak but he seemed to enjoy it, as his gaze followed hers behind him to those same doors, the small smirk drifting to his lips either at the memory or her use of the word 'fuck' she wasn't quite sure which as she tried to find common ground with him. But memories seemed to spark behind his eyes, as a softness she'd yet to see on his face overtook it for one fleeting moment as he stroked her hair away from her face, staring at her curiously.

"Or on kitchen counters," He chuckled softly and she tried to hold on to that memory of their first time but he continued flooding her with more, "on the floor, in the corridors, the pool..." and she held her breath as the memories seemed to reach him as his hand traced the back of her thighs. "Did we ever make the bed?" his voice rumbled against her spine and she arched beneath him, both at the memory and at his touch.

"Sometimes." She breathed, willing him to remember their gentler moments as he held her whilst she slept, her mind reaching out for his and offering him those memories, but he pushed them away. She felt the hardness of him brush against her centre and she couldn't help but push back, wanting to feel more of him; to give him this and let him reclaim himself as he claimed her.

"_He_ wouldn't like me touching you." He rasped and she stilled beneath him, his words drawing a shiver, because he sounded far too delighted by the notion, far too detached from the man he'd been. "Wouldn't like the way your breath hitches when I touch you, the flare of heat to your skin... the way your mouth parts and your eyes close at the sound of my voice as it rumbles down your senses." She gasped as he demonstrated far too well.

"_He_ is you." She reminded. "He can't be jealous of himself." It was an all too frequent argument of theirs and one she suspected might continue.

"Am I him though?" he queried and she stared back at him, his grip on her joined hands tightening and pulling at her arms slightly in a way that was just a touch uncomfortable. "What if I'm something else?" he asked and she examined him as close as she could from her glancing position, listening to the feel of his breathing, of his hearts beating deep inside her mind, the touch of his hand against her lower back, gentle but insistent as his hardness brushed between her thighs. They were at a precipice she realised, dancing on the edge. But she couldn't push him, only catch him, the leap was all his own.

"You're my husband." She sighed, "I promised you I would love you always, whatever you choose." '_But please choose him, choose the Doctor' _she pleaded quietly to herself, because she honestly wasn't sure if she could hold up her end of the bargain given the alternative.

"Clara." He whispered as he pushed inside of her, stretching and filling her as she tightened reflexively around him, her forehead dropped to the console as her body welcomed him and his new girth in a way she wasn't sure her heart was quite ready for. "My Clara." He sighed in contentment as he sunk deep into her until the back of her thighs touched the front of his, "Always so _perfect_." He murmured as he thrust slowly into her, pushing in and sliding almost all the way back out holding her fast against the console from behind as he left her gasping at the new sensations he was able to evoke. Perhaps there was more to this idea of a regenerating Time Lord becoming whatever they felt would keep their mate beside them; because whilst sex between them had always been mind blowing, she felt that this version of him might not need his mind tricks at all. His hand slid around her, pressing her more firmly into him as he found her clit working it furiously and leaving her almost breathless beneath him as he kept to his maddeningly slow deep thrusts that seemed to reach the spot inside of her with every stroke. His lips latched onto a point behind her ear as his hand found erogenous points on her body she was certain she'd never realised could illicit such a toe curling response. The urge to touch him was intense, to see him, to know what her cries and responses were doing to him, but his grip was hard against her hands, keeping her held fast, his body weight pinning her into console as he drove into her almost feverishly in near silence giving her no clue as to what if anything he was feeling.

"Come for me my darling girl." His voice rasped against her cheek and she arched beneath him at the sensation as it flooded her, the utter want in his voice giving her the context she craved and reminding her of exactly who was doing this to her.

She came hard beneath him unable to do anything but give him what he wanted in that moment, as her body all but gave in, until she collapsed against the console her legs losing their ability to support her as she struggled to calm her wildly beating heart as his slow almost languid thrusts continued to leave her quivering. "Doctor." She cried out, but she had no idea what she was pleading for, the sensations were intense as he seemed to draw them out of her again, she didn't know if she wanted him to stop or never to. He seemed to know what she needed better than she did as he finally released her hands and slipped out of her spinning her around and stepping back between her legs; without hesitation she wrapped them tightly around his hips, not caring about the levers or doohickeys pressing into her back as he pushed into her once more. She stared up at him wordlessly, his face inches from hers revealing himself to her as she could finally see more in his eyes than mere lust as he slid into her again from this new angle, his breaths almost as ragged as hers as he brushed her cheek with his thumb delicately, the smile gracing his lips was so soft and genuine that she could see the man she'd married shining back at her for just a moment. Then his mouth found hers and she captured his groan of contentment as his pelvis pushed against hers just right; reminding her again that they fit too well... made for each other.

Clara's eyes opened wide in shock as she realised she was building up again, she clutched at her hair arching her back and letting him claim her breasts heedlessly as she pulsed around him, her body starting to strain with the effort. He might have been older but his control over his peripheral blood system seemed superior she noted as he continued his thrusts, letting them become harder, faster into her, her heels dug into the backs of his thighs, urging him closer still as he ground his pelvis down into her clit, not even needing his hands as they worked her breasts until her nipples were all but his.

Then his mind pushed into hers and she was screaming, her body lost in a sea of pleasure and stimulation so intense she feared it might drive her insane. She remembered what the Doctor, _her _Doctor had said, the things she'd seen in his mind and couldn't help but wonder if this was what had driven that defunct future version of her mad? Her body was in overload as she bucked against him all but wild as she felt him reach his own climax, his pleasure only feeding hers and sending her crashing into blackness.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Clara's eyes shot open in time to catch the Doctor as he collapsed over her, her legs clutched around him and she struggled to breathe against the sudden crushing dead weight of him. "Doctor." She hissed in confusion, blinking sharply as she tried to return her focus. She'd only been out mere moments, she was sure of it. But apparently the Doctor was going to be out a little longer. Her arms went around him and without much choice she pushed him off her, trying to slide off the console and cushion as much of his fall as she could.

He looked slighter perhaps, but he still had that Time Lord density that seemed to confound her with its strength and the most she could do was cradle his head as he crumpled to the floor, his eyes were closed and moving rapidly behind the lids. Clara crouched down beside him, listening to the sounds of his laboured chest as he drew in a ragged breath and expelled another a moment later that was laced with gold vapour.

"Oh God." Clara mouthed quietly, her hand clutching his face which was definitely hot to the touch, almost feverish. "Doctor." She tried to shake him lightly, knowing even as she did it, it was futile, the TARDIS let out a sound and redirected her attention to the scanner that flared to life. "I know, I know, regeneration sickness." Clara muttered. "Should have known when his memories were all scrambled." She huffed, realising that neither of them were exactly in the most dignified of positions right now; with care she shimmied him back into his trousers covering his modesty. Her own clothes were in a crumpled heap on the floor, grasping them she hurriedly shoved her arms into her bra and hastily with shaking fingers did up the blouse, tugging her skirt back into position and leaving her heels where they had fallen, not caring about her bare feet on the cold metallic grating.

Her entire body was still trembling she realised as she brushed her hands through her hair trying to take deep calming breaths as she simply stood there for a moment, eyes closed, trying not to think too hard about what had just happened, the things he'd said... the way he touched her or the way she'd responded, even in her uncertainty he'd pushed aside her grief with entirely different sensations.

Her body calmed and she chanced a look at him again, his heartbeat despite her worry was strong, it's rhythm pounding out its drum beat in her mind so she turned to the TARDIS, her hands going to the scanner to see where exactly on Earth it was the Box had landed them after that small crash. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise and she patted the console fondly. "Sorry about that Dear." She offered slightly apologetically, after all it hadn't exactly been her idea to deface the Old Girl... again. The emergency landing protocol had activated she noted quietly, "Returns you to the last safe location you've been." Clara spoke aloud before dropping her head realising what that meant. "That would be the Torchwood Hub... where you collected me, correct?" the TARDIS made a sound that she took to be positive.

"And all that crashing was you trying to get through the shields that Jack & Mickey have probably been tweaking since the last time you tried it." There was a slightly more irritated sound and Clara sighed. "Well Martha will at least know what to do with him more than I can." She turned to glance at what she hoped was the simply sleeping Doctor, although she suspected his state was more comatose than anything else. Keeping busy was key she realised as the sudden silence was filled with a crushing weight in her chest.

"Do you have records on this condition?" Clara asked dragging herself and her eyes from his unfamiliar face as the TARDIS displayed data for her. "Seriously what is it with him and Christmas?" She bit out staring at the information the TARDIS was presenting about the 'heroic' face in the sandshoes who'd experienced a somewhat difficult transition too. "Different situation," Clara sighed wondering what the Old Girl was getting at "he was trying to cope with an overload of temporal..." she trailed off. "Oh." She felt a grin curving her lips. "Oh you are good. Very good." She pressed a kiss to the view the screen hoping the Old Girl could feel it. The situations weren't quite the same, but the overload was excess regeneration energy... in this case a whole new batch of regenerations probably packed on hell of a punch. "Sleep, tea and time." Clara listed off the things he'd probably need as she sighed in relief hoping they were both right as she turned back to the Doctor and crouched down beside him to brush the sweat that was already forming on his brow. She dropped a feather light kiss to that same forehead, not wanting to consider the idea that he might never wake up.

Her eyes caught onto a scrap of fabric lying innocuously, discarded on the floor that had the power to make her heart ache and eyes sting; she retrieved the bow tie sliding the well worn cloth through her fingers and dropping beneath the centre console to open a panel. "Keep it safe would you Old Girl." She pressed a kiss to the material and sealed up the panel, it wasn't much of a burial, or even a goodbye, but she'd have time to grieve properly, now wasn't it.

Steeling herself Clara pushed open the TARDIS doors and wasn't surprised to find three very wary looking faces staring back at her which split into genuinely relieved smiles at seeing her.

"Do I want to hesitate a guess as to how long it's been?" Clara asked hopping out of the box and embracing Martha.

"You didn't say goodbye!" The other woman gripped her around the shoulders firmly as she pulled her in for a hug and she could feel the strength in her hands as she bit down, clearly as angry as she was relieved, the height difference between them obvious now with her in bare feet, but she didn't care as she clutched Martha to her like she could fix everything.

"I think the Doctor's been wearing off on me." Clara muttered by way of apology as Martha pulled back for Mickey to give her a small nod and grin of approval. Jack on the other hand enveloped her in a hug that made her feel just a tad uncomfortable... the man could smell sex a mile off.

"What happened?" Jack grasped her face, Clara slid out of his touch slightly apologetically. If there was one thing she understood about the Doctor, in whatever form he was in, he wouldn't like how familiar she and Jack had become.

"He died..." her voice broke over those words and without even meaning to she was in Jack's arms again, her legs collapsed under her and she was sobbing into his chest. "Oh God Jack he died... I tried to save him, to get them to save him." Her words choked away as he rocked her, cradling her head as he offered her quiet words.

"Is he dead, dead?" he whispered, clutching her closer as she hesitated, her eyes opening as she locked eyes on him; he of course was familiar with just how much a Time Lord could survive.

"No." She breathed. "Maybe." She countered, trying to compose herself as she wiped at her eyes, standing up straight. "He should be. I know that much, he... _we_" she corrected "broke some serious rules with this regeneration. He got a whole new set and it's," Martha's eyes were wide as saucers and Clara focused on her, "well it's kind of kicked the crap out of him, he needs some place to rest and recover."

"Anywhere, anywhen and you picked here?" Mickey sighed shaking his head, "You need to have a word with your travel agent."

"Come on now." Jack slipped an arm around her waist rubbing her back gently. "Why the hell not here? We're family, right Clara?" his grin was megawatt but she wasn't buying it one bit, the idea of having a new Doctor was freaking him out as much as it was her, and she was at least up to speed, Jack was quite literally a thousand years or more out of touch with the man. But then she wondered what was a millennia between immortals?

"He's inside." She cocked her head to them. "Please help me carry him, the TARDIS can't keep him on board much longer, she needs to repair and the regeneration energy is leaking damaging her further." Jack frowned not understanding, "Plus I think she took a Dalek blast or two that might have dented her outer casing somewhat... she's a little pissed at the whole situation." She winced looking directly at Jack, knowing he'd understand the sentience of the TARDIS as only those that had felt it's lash could. "That and he forgot her." Jack winced, Clara shared the sentiment, it had no doubt stung them both.

"Forgot?" Martha piped up, stepping into the doors, Clara waved Mickey and Jack inside and followed them in.

"Yes, forgot. Forgot how to pilot her, forgot pretty much everything personal, half forgot himself I think." The idea terrified her but she chose not to share that with them right now, they were going to have difficulty enough taking in an unknown untested Doctor without her adding her own concerns that he might not even _be _the Doctor anymore.

"You too?" Jack gave her a sidelong sympathetic look and she tried not to let her lip tremble.

"Initially." She added cryptically, because he certainly seemed to remember some things about her all too well, but she didn't see the need to elaborate on that titbit. "I'm hoping it's just all a bit scrambled for now, it'll come back when his neural pathways have had a chance to reform and the energy has finished bleeding out of him." If the others thought she was sounding overly optimistic then they didn't call her on it, just approached the fallen form of the man she sincerely hoped was still the Doctor.

Martha's fingers went to the Doctor's neck needlessly, Clara could have tapped out the drumbeat of his heart for her; if it faltered she'd know. They also didn't comment on his latest appearance, though she could see it in their expressions clear enough, after all they'd only ever known a young and vibrant Doctor, his last three faces had hardly prepared them for this.

"He's silver." Mickey broke the silence, bending down beside Jack to shuffle the shirtless Doctor up onto their shoulders between them, his booted feet dragging on the floor. "Heavy though." He huffed a little as if not expecting it which she could understand given his slight, angular frame now.

Clara nodded. "Yeah, Time Lord remember, he just looks human, don't be fooled." She added quietly, aware she had crossed her arms almost protectively around herself as she watched them. "His first face was silver." She added seeing their concerned expressions flickering to her. "I wondered if that was what this was, a full reset... back to factory settings."

"Was his first face the Doc we knew and loved?" Jack grinned as he and Mickey gently manoeuvred him past her towards the doors.

"More or less. Had a lot to learn about humanity... bit of an arse if I'm honest, kidnapped a couple of schoolteachers his first trip to Earth." Clara added almost offhandedly her memory supplying her with the information with almost cool detachment.

"Sounds like a charmer." Martha quipped, not sounding amused as they got him out the doors and headed out into the Hub; her hand slid into Clara's halting them both and she stared down at their interlinked fingers. "Clara, we'll take care of him," she promised and she felt her grip tighten keeping her attention, "but you need to take care of _you_, I understand that he's still the Doctor... but you just watched the your husband die. You're not okay."

Clara looked up to see the concerned eyes of a friend and nodded, she didn't have the strength to hold it all back much longer as she let Martha lead her by the arm out of the TARDIS and in the opposite direction of the Doctor and the boys, towards the dormitories where she knew there would still be a bunk made up for her. She just hoped she could sink into a dreamless sleep.

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><p>Clara shifted in her seat beside his hospital bed, she'd long since turned the heartbeat monitor off, finding the duel sounds as it competed with the one inside of her head distracting. He slept fitfully, his eyes moving rapidly as his body twisted and writhed, his muscles pulling taught at times and falling relaxed at others. Hesitantly she brushed her fingers across his forehead, still surprised and grateful when her touch seemed to soothe him.<p>

"I'm here." She promised him quietly dropping her forehead to the back of his hand and feeling the incredible heat coming from him burning against her cooler skin. "Come back to me." She pleaded gently, meaning more than simply seeing him wake.

"You should take a break." Jack's voice startled her and she lifted her head from its position to glare at him.

"I slept." She bristled.

"Two hours. Hardly what I'd call restful. You heard Martha, his vitals are stable, the energy is stabilised, he's not in a coma just deeply asleep, he'll be fine." He meant it to be helpful, she was sure, but she felt a hitch in her throat at the idea of him waking up.

Her eyes dropped back to his sleeping form. "He's so different." She whispered, hating the hesitation in her voice as she took his hand once more, stroking her thumb across the skin and finding new patterns in it that left her uneasy, but of course it was the differences beneath his skin that prayed on her worries most.

"Oh I don't know, that big eared, shorn headed Northerner I met turning into the cockney pretty boy with all that hair was something of a shock... this is almost an improvement. I saw the last faces chin in the archives. He could have taken your eye out with that." Clara couldn't help but smile as she glanced back at him, the memory of her saying something similar in another life drifted over her and she sighed pushing it away.

"I'm not worried about how he looks Jack. I'm worried about what's going on in here." She swept her fingers across his brow and realising it was also baking she reached over for the cool washcloth and gently dabbed across trying to make him comfortable.

Jack's hands landed on her shoulders and she dropped her head. "You said it yourself, he's always the Doctor, that won't change. And trust me, he'll love you no matter what's going on inside that head of his." His thumbs brushed the skin of her neck and she sighed and let her head drop back against his stomach, staring up at him, whilst he tried to ease the tension he no doubt felt pooled along her neck and shoulders.

"I'm just worried." She admitted quietly not choosing to elaborate, she didn't need her team looking for signs of the Valeyard emerging too, she'd be doing that enough for the rest of them. Jack leant over and pressed a kiss to her forehead giving her shoulders a squeeze.

"If you won't leave his side, then at least try and sleep in the cot Martha made up next to him." He indicated the gurney on the opposite side to the chair she'd chosen and nodded.

"I will, I promise." She sighed wearily as Jack moved away back towards the door.

"I'll hold you to that Clara. If I come back in here and you don't look all cute and sleep rumpled you won't be getting the coffee I'll have brewed especially for you." She smiled giving him a mock salute as he slid from the room, but the concern never quite left his eyes and she stared at the empty space he'd been for a moment, wondering if he knew more than he was letting on about her worries for the Doctor.

In the end she did as Jack requested, mostly because she kept dropping asleep against the Doctor's chest, which wasn't helping his laboured breathing any. She shoved the bed a bit closer until it was pushed against his and she hopped up onto it, lowering the railing so that she could reach out and clasp one of his hands in hers as she dropped her head to the pillow. His mind was quiet inside of hers, that more than anything frightened her; she was so used to being able to feel something from him when they touched even asleep, his absence only increased her concern. Of course it wasn't something she'd felt she could share with the others, as far as she knew she'd only ever mentioned it briefly to Jack in a highly fraught conversation that her mind had become linked to his... give the nature of that conversation she highly doubted he'd ever repeated it to anyone and she didn't want a possible weakness like that being used against the Doctor; or her. Heavy with exhaustion she fought her eyes until they eventually closed and her breathing evened out to match his as she fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

><p>Her eyes shot open instantly aware something was wrong as they landed on his empty bed beside hers. It took her a moment to shake the sleep from her foggy brain as she rolled off the bed, her hands going to the sheets and finding them still warm, wherever he'd gone, it hadn't been long. Feeling only a slight fluttering of panic in her chest she left the medical wing and followed her instincts, the sense of him whilst muted now was still there and it lead her forward into the central Hub which was eerily quiet, her eyes fell on the clock and realised that Jack was probably asleep at 3am and Martha and Mickey would be long gone. The TARDIS was alight and humming, the doors open a fraction, invitingly. Clara hesitated, torn between stepping inside and finding him... to leaving the relative safety of the Hub.<p>

But his heartbeat was erratic in her mind and she swallowed her fear and pushed open the doors, stepping inside and closing them firmly. She wouldn't put her team at risk, and if the Doctor was in trouble, or if she was she had enough faith in the TARDIS now to think she would let them in if needed.

"Doctor?" she called out, stepping into the familiar console room, her eyes scanning the area and finding nothing out of place. She went down the steps to the lower level, the unmistakeable sound of his heartbeat drawing closer. "Doctor." She spoke again, quieter this time, trying not to startle him. It was darker down here, emergency lighting throwing gloomy shadows over everything.

"Clara." His voice and that accent was still jarring when it said her name and she spun, startled to find him inches from her, his slightly taller frame towering down at her. Her eyes latched onto his form, he'd changed his clothing she realised, taking in the long dark coat, the white shirt with conspicuously absent neck piece, the heavy black trousers and thick soled boots.

"You changed clothes." She managed to get out feeling ridiculous but not sure what else to say.

He shrugged, but his eyes were intent on her, sparking in the low lighting. "Well I could hardly stay in those ridiculous tweed things, now could I?" If he was provoking her it was working, because she felt something vice like clutch her stomach, but she merely pursed her lips in response, letting her concern for him come to the fore, after all the last time she'd seen him he'd been unconscious and with his snarky mouth closed she hadn't been able to suppress the love she still had for him. However ill advised that might turn out to be.

"How are you feeling?" she pressed reaching up to touch his cheek, he blocked the movement catching her hand deftly in his own and holding it there, his grip too tight to be idle, but she noted it wasn't still as hot with fever as when she'd last touched him.

His lips curled up into a half smile that did something not entirely pleasant to her stomach. "Better." He replied and she stilled as he stepped into the space between them, lowering his head to hers until his lips brushed her ear. "Although I feel I must apologise my dear, for leaving you so abruptly." Clara blinked, trying not to shiver at the way his warm breath slid over her skin as she felt his arm wrap tightly around her waist; as she remembered just what it was they had been doing when he'd 'left'.

"It's okay." She managed to get out, noting the way his fingers pressed against the pulse point of her wrist as he drew that hand towards his mouth, his eyes holding her attention as she struggled to read them.

"Oh I think it was better than okay." His voice sent a shiver down her spine in remembered pleasure and her breath caught as his mind deliberately brushed hers provocatively. She tried to pull away, still not certain who she was dealing with. He didn't let her and she tried not to pout up at him, fear and excitement in equal measure spiking her pulse.

"Do you remember now?" she found the courage to ask staring up at him through her lashes using the only tool she knew for certain she had against him at this point.

"Oh yes. I remember much, much more than the Chin ever did; poor boy was so desperate to forget it all, was the devil of a game to retrieve it." His grin was wide and she wondered what all the quirks of his lips meant, which ones were real and which ones were a mask.

"And?" she pressed hesitantly, holding her breath and waiting for an answer she shouldn't have to elaborate on.

"You mean am I the thing he feared becoming... that monster that did such terrible and depraved things to the Universe and to his dear, sweet, human companion," his eyes bored into her with and intensity that made her want to squirm "to you?" Clara startled at the shiver he set loose in her with those two words and she tried to pull away again as his fingers tightened their grip on her wrist and his hand on her waist drew up her spine until she was pressed against his chest.

"Would it matter if I was?" he whispered, lowering his head and hovering over her lips.

Clara stared up into those steel blue eyes, wondering if he was testing her or if she was really looking at her undoing as she considered his question, not wanting to think too hard about her answer because she didn't like it one bit herself. A dark suspicion grew as she felt the brief presence of his mind brush against hers whether he meant to or not.

But two could play at this game and she needed answers from him. "Why did _he_ send you back, why did he make you change this... _us_?" she asked, certain this version of him would have an answer now, whether or not he was the same man they'd glimpsed, he was closer to it than she'd have liked.

"Such a clever girl." He rasped, his eyes not dropping hers as she felt his hand trace patterns down her spine, her body responding to his touch in a way she wasn't comfortable with. "Why do _you_ think he did it?" The air around them seemed to crackle with intensity and she struggled to draw in a shaking breath that wasn't choked with their mingled scents.

But she hesitated in her response, his hands were so keen to touch her that she felt the need to take something back, to touch him as she reached up with her other hand and traced his completely normal chin with her thumb, missing the last one and yet relieved that he wasn't here to see this. "I think he set a trap." She admitted quietly the suspicion that she had quietly harboured for a very long time.

"Oh?" his eyes danced with something like pride, for her. "And do you think it worked?"

Clara closed her eyes listening to those instincts she wasn't so certain of anymore as she lifted up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, dropping back down before he had the chance to respond. She kept hoping that he might reveal something more in his kiss, that his mind might lower its defences but all she felt was the wall between them. "I think it's difficult to set a trap for yourself... the most you can do is trap each other."

His grin was sly then and she felt her heart rate sky rocket, as he leant down and captured her lips himself all hesitancy abandoned as his tongue swept into her mouth, stealing her breath before he pulled back as abruptly as she had. "Ah yes, human biology, ever unpredictable. I don't believe either version expected you to take quite so well to the bonding. Or to be so affected by it themselves."

Clara dropped his gaze, wanting to be away from his touch that was clouding her thoughts, he obliged for once, seemingly as aware of her subtle changes as she was unfamiliar with his. She slid out of his grasp and turned her back on him, holding her arms around herself and trying to steady her breathing. It was one thing to suspect, it was another to be confronted by it; something had never sat right with the idea of him sending himself back to seduce her; he could have changed so much else, why that? And the Doctor blindly agreeing without planning ahead, making his own moves and countermoves. It was a chess game against two equally matched players, the outcome could only ever be a stalemate, unless one of them made a mistake. Her Doctor had counteracted whatever the other had planned by marrying her, binding them together and forcing his feelings so thoroughly into his future self; making it impossible for him to become what he'd clearly hoped to be.

"He was just supposed to seduce me... acknowledge his feelings, am I right?" she glanced back at him. "Then walk into his death regardless." Clara snorted. "They both underestimated how selfish you can be _my_ Doctor."

He cocked his head at her, "Or how greedy, how reckless." He admitted a touch of anger colouring his words that surprised her as she watched his eyes narrow with familiar self loathing. "That chinned fool gave himself years, years in which he played dice with the Universe, not caring if it cracked on him again so long as he got to have you. To have what he had been denied for too long."

Clara eyed him. "So that's it." She admitted, "You didn't expect him to walk away, you knew he couldn't, you expected him to destroy it all, to defy his own timeline and what... end it all in a reckless act of selfishness?" Her expression fell as she realised she'd said 'you'. 'You expected'. Like she was acknowledging that the man he would become was the man standing before her, the man that had set all of this into motion. Of course he noticed; he was behind her in two long strides, his chest crushed against her back as his arms wrapped around her, holding her fast as his lips dropped to her hair.

"Oh believe me I am thrilled with this turn of events, after all we had no idea we could actually succeed, it never crossed our mind to even try." He smirked. "The Universe hates me too much to allow it you see; to give me something so _impossible_, something I can keep."

Clara shivered at the utter venom in his voice, it was as if he'd fixated all the loathing, the anger inside of him on the Universe itself. "No." She bit out, turning in his arms and forcing his eyes onto her as she clutched the lapels of his jacket. "No, I don't accept it." She hit his chest hard with both of her fists. "You are _not_ him, not that monster! You are the Doctor." She bit out half pleading with him to snap out of this and wishing she could push the conviction into his mind.

His smile was almost sad in that moment. "Oh my sweet girl," his thumb brushed her lips, "Don't you see, that is the tragedy of it all... there never was a monster, a Valeyard. There was only ever the Doctor."

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><p>The Doctor watched as she fled from him, her feet carrying her deftly up the steps until he could hear her flying against the doors of the TARDIS, her fists pounding against them as she realised they weren't opening. The tell tale sounds of the sonic he had given her mixed with a cry of frustration as that too failed. He sighed, listening to her desperation as she spun to the console, trying to force an override.<p>

The memories had been slow to return, but they had returned, with force and he was a better pilot now, a better engineer, a better _Doctor_. He could fix things his previous self could never have conceived of. Including any overrides the sentient machine could attempt to yank control back to the autopilot instead of his more than capable hands. He retrieved the container he had taken great pains to create, eying the swirling regeneration energy. It hadn't been easy in the limited time he'd had before Clara had found him, less than ten minutes to create the impossible. But he smiled, apparently his wife had rubbed off on him too, because he was holding the impossible. He stowed it away carefully beneath the lower console, sealing it away from prying eyes for later.

One calm foot in front of the other he strode up the stairs to the console to find her on the opposite side of it, her beautiful doe eyes wide and accusing on him. The look pained him, which was a concern in itself, he wasn't sure his resolve would hold against that look, or the tears that blossomed in her eyes. Or the conflicting part of himself that found he almost enjoyed it.

"So is this it... is this what you'll do, lock me in here too?" she snapped, her strength only lessened by the tremor in her voice; after all she'd seen what his future self had done, what the man he supposed was still a part of him, had done to her.

"That depends, why were you trying to leave?" he asked curiously.

Her eyes widened and her hands went to her hips, fear seemed to be replaced by anger and she slid around the console until he felt the full force of _that_ glare. All 5ft nothing of her giving him pause. "Because I'm furious and frightened I don't want to look at you right now." She all but snarled at him.

He considered it. "Fair enough." He clicked his fingers and the doors swung open, his eyes never leaving her slightly startled expression. Her eyes slid to his and then to the open door in clear suspicion. "I won't stop you my dear. I merely wanted to continue our conversation, but if you are not amenable to it, then by all means..." he stepped aside, waving his hand at the door and inviting her to leave, mildly hoping she wouldn't.

Her foot tapped irritably and he noticed the way her thumb itched with her suppressed desire to bite her nail in a nervous gesture as she tried to decipher him.

"Just like that?" she pressed.

He laughed quietly at her, clearly he hadn't been clear enough in separating himself in her mind from that future version. "Of course Love." His use of the endearment startled her more than the doors opening had and he realised with a start he rather enjoyed surprising her, the way her heartbeat hitched and her breathing caught, the slight flush to her cheeks and the way it bought a fleck of gold to her dark eyes.

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" she accused and he couldn't help but be surprised himself that she was already beginning to read him, but then she was his wife, clearly that came with an innate intuition about him.

He felt his lip curl up fractionally. "It's fun isn't it?" he insisted, "Getting to know someone again, learning all those little quirks and tells of theirs," he drew closer to her until his lips could brush her ear, her scent distinctly different to him in this form, far more enticing he noted with satisfaction; "so unpredictable." He whispered against her, his voice a low rumble, enjoying that for him at least she was like a well worn page on a book, he knew every crease, every line, every syllable, the familiarity was comforting after so much change.

"This isn't fun." She replied with conviction, but he could see the way her pupils dilated a fraction and her breathing quickened, her pulse tripping at the combination of his proximity and the idea he planted. He smiled as she stepped around him, she was so delightfully responsive; his fingers all but itched to touch her skin again, to slide into her waiting warmth and feel her come apart beneath him. He hadn't exactly been at his best the last time, and the experience was still a little muddled. But he realised as she threw him a sharp look over her shoulder that he enjoyed arguing with her almost as much; she was delightful in her fury. He watched her stalk from the TARDIS, her head high, hips swaying in a way he was certain she didn't know she did as she left his sight.

His eyes fell on the console and he smoothed his hand over the Old Girl. "All that worry," He laughed at himself, "all that energy he spent trying to stop me and here I am anyway." He patted the console when she gave a subdued noise of response. "Not to worry Sexy, I've retained more of him than he'd like... that was the part of all this that really scared him you see, that he knew he wasn't so far off me." He danced around the console. "But a new man needs a new theme. Why don't you cook me up something different, I'm tired of this look, it's been this way for a millennia, lets see something new and exciting." He pushed a few buttons and stepped back. "Surprise me Dear." He laughed before stepping out of the TARDIS himself and closing the doors firmly, giving her time to finish cooking.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

_**Author's note: I wrote this Chapter before the S8 opener aired, I decided not to edit it based on the new Characterisations and relationship as this is intended to be AU, hopefully the Characterisations won't end up differing too far on Clara though given the changes they are making or highlighting. **_

_**Personally whilst I loved the episode and their take on the darker Doctor and the new Companion relationship, I did have a slight issue with Clara taking on the audiences grievances about his 'age'. I think it had been made clear she wasn't into young men at Christmas and she had no such problems accepting Ten and War as 'the' Doctor. Also always felt that responding to Eleven's 'flirtations' was natural given as he was the one that practically dragged her into his TARDIS and was the one mostly obsessed (something he didn't explain for a long time), and unable to stop touching her in a more than familiar way, I think it'd be kind of hard not to get the wrong impression (glad they also acknowledged that was 'his' mistake in the episode). So for the sake of fairness to the writers trying to use the Companion as the viewers POV for the opening show, I'll just assume it was the trauma of losing him and stages of grief (denial, anger etc.) That and I think for her it was the issue of 'renewed' she'd just watched him die of old age, she probably quite rightly was worried that if he was already 'old' again that he wouldn't last long – not quite in her grief addled state, getting her head around the fact that he would have just as long no matter what apparent 'age' he started at in this form (Snapshots by Incendia Glacies also explored this point wonderfully which I fully agree with, wish it had been explained that way a little clearer in the epi – rather than Clara taking offence that she just didn't like him because he was old, rather than just being worried for him and at the clear and definite personality shift which is more startling than from some of his other most recent incarnations).**_

_**Also control freak and bossy I get... not sure about where the vain/egomaniac thing came in unless it's all related to the control freak bit. But hey her characterisation has suffered last series at the whims of the many writers so if this is them trying to fix that by finally defining and sticking to something then fine by me **__** I still personally prefer her core character to a lot of the other Companions however muddled some of the extremities of it can be at times (Nightmare in Silver for example I think was totally ofc for Clara she barely seemed to care her 'kids' had been cyborged, not at all maternal, just ballsy and brave – apparently the timing didn't stretch to her showing both aspects) feel free to PM me or comment in the reviews if you have theories on this or any of the above or hell just to chat about the new series.**_

_**And no I'm not a fan of authors notes, rarely use them myself so I tend to skip them in others fics so no guilt if that's what you chose to do... just excited its back on and felt like sharing.**_

_**Anyway... Chapter 12 of a now very AU piece. **_

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><p>Clara was running, it took her a while to realise she still wasn't wearing any shoes as she darted along the empty streets of Cardiff Bay, until she reached the water, her hands clutching the railings as she stared over the moon dappled expanse. Her heart pounding in her chest. She didn't know what to think, much less what to feel. He was the Doctor, she was certain of it, but he was also something else, and apparently always had been. Somehow that felt worse, more of a betrayal than him simply taking a new name and striding out a different man with a new face.<p>

She felt the bitter chill of the nights air against her blouse, she was hardly dressed for this, but it hadn't been high on her priorities when she'd fled. But she simply couldn't bear to see his smirk one more time, to feel the confusing touch of his hand, the utterly unchanged smell of him as he leant in too close.

"Wow, now I had no idea those little legs of yours could move that fast." Jack's voice drifted over to her and she bowed her head, clutching the railing tighter as if considering launching herself over it and into the water.

"Not now Jack." She all but whispered, not daring to look at him, not even rising to the little legs comment he loved to use to dig at her.

She felt his approach, the familiar almost comforting presence of him behind her, offering silent support. "I take it this has something to do with the Doctor being awake and out of bed?"

Clara sighed turning to look at him and he frowned at her tear stained face. "I just needed to get away, get some fresh air." She admitted quietly.

Jack nodded. "Without your shoes?" he quirked an eyebrow at her bare feet and she noticed they were more than a little scraped, she couldn't even feel it, but of course Jack had noticed. "That must have been some urge." He stepped closer and shrugged out of his large jacket stepping forward to place it firmly around her shoulders and she knew better than to argue with him about it, besides she really was cold. It practically brushed the floor on her and she laughed lightly at the ridiculousness of it.

"I don't suppose I'm going to convince you to go back inside and just leave me out here to wallow am I?" she shook her head hopelessly at him.

"Wouldn't be much of a partner if I let you catch your death of cold now would I?" he shrugged, his hands reached up and caught her face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs; the look on his face was almost too tender for her to bear and she pulled away.

"Please don't." She murmured, in no condition to deal with this.

"I take it those marriage bonds of yours are as strong as ever then?" he asked, she could hear he was going for levity but it broke somewhere in the middle into bitterness, mixed in with the smallest hint of pride, and she wondered if he'd just been pushing her just to be sure she knew what she wanted.

She nodded, clutching the jacket tighter around her and feeling the familiar and all too different beat of the Doctor's hearts within her. "Always." She added quietly. "For better or worse."

Jack let out a sigh that seemed close to exasperation and she felt his hands lower gently onto her shoulders. "What happened?" he pressed, his concern for her all that seemed to matter and it was comforting, to have someone just want to ease her pain.

Clara stared up at the night sky, it was so clear, she wondered how many of those stars she had been to, how many the Doctor had saved... how many he might fail to save? "Nothing," she admitted finally, "we had a fight that's all. It's different now, he's different. I just need some time to deal with that."

"I can understand that." He admitted, "I don't envy you," he sighed and she glanced back at him, "Oh we've all fantasised about it, his Companions," he added with a smirk, "about being that one Companion he can't let go, the one he wants to keep forever, the one he finally lets into that fortress he keeps around his hearts." He gave her a look that suggested it was a fools wish, "Martha was in love with him, did she ever tell you that?" Clara shook her head, startled by the news, "Totally head over heels for him; but he was too wrapped up in his grief about Rose to notice her, or the damage he was doing. He damn near destroyed her life before she woke up to the fact that he wasn't good for her."

Clara blinked back tears, she'd read about the 'year that never was', knew the kind of scars her friend hid, she just couldn't imagine what it would have felt like to go through that and have loved him in spite of it, getting nothing back.

"But if there was ever a case of careful what you wish for Clara, it's you and him." He pulled her into a hug and she let him, holding him close and just sobbing quietly. "He's all but a God Clara, and as unknowable as one and we are all just dust in his wake."

Clara had no answer for him, no response, she just clung to him and cried until she felt empty.

"Come back inside." He instructed quietly, his hand gently around her waist as he led her back towards the Hub. She winced as they walked, aware of the pain in her feet now, the nicks and cuts her initial flight created and he doesn't ask, just sweeps her up into his arms and holds her against his chest as he walks them back, making her feel like a foolish little girl.

"He won't like this." Clara whispered quietly against him, meaning their position even as she rested her head on his shoulder as he stared resolutely ahead, but his hands are gentle as they hold her firm. She doesn't even know this new him and she knows he wouldn't like this.

"I don't much care." He muttered back, "You're my friend, my partner and someone I care about, if he can't deal with that then he really doesn't deserve you."

They reach the entrance and he placed her gently back on her feet inside, his thumb rose to brush her cheek one last time, wiping away any remaining trace of her tears, before pushing her hair behind her ears. Sheepishly she handed back his jacket.

"Keep it for now, even though we both agree it looks better on me." He quipped and she can't help but smile despite herself as he pushed the button, entering his security details and sending her back down into the Hub as he stepped back, remaining up top; her eyes watch him until he's out of sight and she fell back against the lift, clutching the jacket to her and wondering what on earth she was supposed to do about the Doctor?

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><p>The Doctor hadn't found Clara in the Hub, not that he was all that surprised by this, he checked the internal sensors which revealed she had gone to the surface, followed shortly after it seemed by one Captain Jack Harkness. Irritation tugged at him, despite her desire to put distance between them, he had rather hoped to continue their rather charged discussion; but it seemed he would have to wait. He smirked stalking to the lifts, patience never had been a virtue of his.<p>

He stood from a distance and watched their interactions with curiosity, noting every touch Jack gave her, every gesture he made. With satisfaction he noted she returned none of them, invited none of them. He had never doubted her, but Jack was always a wild card, if anyone could have swayed Clara's love or even a Time Lord bond he imagined it would be that man. He waited absorbing the quiet care Jack took with her fragile form, holding her close, keeping her warm and out of further damage, which he at least could appreciate. The words they uttered were unimportant, he could see all that he needed from the way they interacted; Jack loved his wife in that utterly foolhardy way of his, but fortunately he seemed content with whatever she would give him, even if friendship was all she offered.

Still, his hearts twisted, the man had clearly taken some dissuading. He cursed his ships inability to arrive anywhere on time, leaving his wife here for well over a year in Jack's company had not been part of any of _their_ plans. He watched him place her in the lift and hang back almost expectantly. The Doctor smirked, he always enjoyed it when someone rose to a challenge. Clearly his presence hadn't gone unnoticed.

"You seem very familiar with my wife Jack." The Doctor called out within arm's reach of feeling his eyes narrow onto the man in question. Jack didn't jump but he was clearly surprised that the Doctor had managed to get so close, but his expression as he turned to meet him held nothing of the contrition he demanded.

"Your wife is a beguiling woman." Jack flashed him a smile that was all challenge and he had to admire the bravery of the man, the fearlessness. But then he wondered if it was truly fearlessness if you were convinced you couldn't die... did it instead become merely arrogance?

"Indeed she is." He didn't feel the need to add _'but she is my wife'_ it was implied and besides he was not some jealous school boy with a crush; nor his wife some simpering woman easily swayed by a smile and a corny line, or even Jack's insistent charms it seemed.

"Hello Doctor." He smiled tightly at him, the history laid bare and somewhat painful between them. "Been a while." he acknowledged.

The Doctor inclined his head in agreement. "That it has, a millennia give or take; but what's a thousand years between us boys eh Jack?" he smirked at the slightly nervous look that invoked from him, clearly his immortality was still a sore point; which was good because it still made the Doctor sick to his head just looking at Jack, the wrongness of the man itched at him to be fixed.

"That must have been some fight you two had." Jack pushed and the Doctor felt in the mood to push back.

"Just readjusting to one another." The Doctor gave him a look that spoke volumes, "she's grieving and yet not grieving at all. It's terribly confusing I'm sure." His smile was thin and he noticed Jack assessing him, clearly this new form was more imposing because he saw Jack waver just a fraction in whatever he'd intended to say, clearly deciding to go for a different tact with this _new _him.

"I've known Clara a while, survived a few scrapes with her Doctor, I don't have to tell you what a bonding experience that can be, the thrill of life and death chases." Jack's eyes danced over him as if trying to provoke an expression at the memories of his previous selves; it wouldn't work, he merely stared back impassively. "I've seen enough to know when she's afraid of something... or someone." He finally made his point and the Doctor couldn't help but admire him for it. He took a step closer and was rewarded by Jack tensing, even fractionally and knowing he had seen it.

"Clara is the woman I love, she has nothing to fear from me." He was as tall as Jack he noted as he met his stare with his own cold one.

"I never said she was afraid _for_ her." Jack replied smoothly and the Doctor cocked his head, sensing that the man before him was much changed from the man he'd met so long ago. But he didn't like the insinuation, didn't like what he might be whispering into Clara's ear; the doubts she didn't need raising further. Cold rage washed over and through him, so much more controlled than the white hot rage of his other selves, but no less devastating for it.

"Do you know your fate Jack?" The Doctor hissed leaning into Jack's face and letting his anger dance across his features for the first time.

"I never was much for spoilers." Jack bit back, the phrase would have thrown his previous face, the sharp reminder of River startling him, but he wasn't that man and he remained unmoved, his heart was utterly Clara's.

"Oh but spoilers can be so much fun." He added quietly letting his words bite as he stared darkly at the man who had gone very still, expectant as the Doctor let him glimpse beneath for a moment. "However immortal you appear to be, please don't be fooled Jack, everything ends." He smirked at the hope he saw flash in the man's eyes. "But I've found fate can be such a fickle beast, the smallest thing can change it and who knows you might end up endless after all."

The look on the old man's face was priceless as he strode passed him, leaving Jack stunned, but he was at least convinced that he wouldn't push his wife when she was in a delicate state again; Jack for all his qualities for all he had changed was still that selfish frightened little boy he'd met with more bravado than brains. The Doctor knew his greatest fear, knew he feared he'd go on and on... and there were ways to make that happen, ways a Time Lord could easily manipulate if he so felt the need. He glanced back at the man as he stepped into the lift, seeing the utter desolation and the faint flickering of fear, apparently an undying man was easier to break, than to kill.

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><p>He found Clara lying on a bunk in the dormitory her back to the door, Jack's jacket still wrapped around her as she tried, somewhat unsuccessfully he noted, to sleep. He considered going inside, but he could hear the feint sobs coming from her, see the way her shoulders shook. His mind brushed hers gently and he felt the overwhelming grief coming from her. He withdrew, she was too caught up in it to notice his presence as he backed away, he'd give her anything he realised quietly, even his absence if it bought her peace. At least for a while.<p>

He sighed running his hands through his short hair and turning to the control room, sliding into one of the fancy leather seats and examining the layout. He noticed the little touches throughout it that were all Clara, clearly she had made herself at home here and whilst it irritated him, it also gave him a sense of pride that she could hold her own so well without him at all. Boredom would be a problem in this form he realised quickly, something he and his predecessor shared as he twiddled with buttons and hacked into Torchwood's systems with relative ease. The video cameras were easy enough to bring up and he drew up the one of his wife finally sleeping and locked it onto the adjacent screen, his eyes drifting to it every now and again whilst he played with others. The one on him was interesting, he hadn't yet examined his face and he zoomed the webcam in, capturing sharp angle after sharp angle of his profile. Severe was the term he thought fit him best. Older... but not so old though, he still felt fresh as a daisy, save for the kidney's that was; but then he remembered what it was to _feel_ old all too well now; to be achingly ancient. He was nowhere near that, had a millennia or so left in this face if he could figure out a way to die of old age again. Unlikely probably. He preferred the face on the whole, people wouldn't confuse him for an ignorant child and he most definitely could give gravitas a go like this.

He wondered if Clara preferred this face? She preferred his touch certainly, he brushed his fingers over the monitor watching her sleep finally and recalling every instance his skin had made contact with hers and the way she responded. But he was not fool enough to think he had settled himself in her hearts as well as she assumed; the bonding was powerful but so was the mind and she could still choose to push him away and reject her transferred feelings, she just didn't seem to know that aspect and he didn't feel inclined to enlighten her if his previous self hadn't. After all she had let him fuck her he knew that, but it hadn't been an expression of love for either of them, it had been a deep seated ache, a need that had to be answered. It would take time to have her touch him like she'd used to, to let himself slip into her embrace and feel like he was coming home. But at the very least he knew he wanted that still; no doubt somewhere in the back of his mind the Chin was crowing in victory.

But he was not unduly concerned that she would find him less attractive this way, had he not seen the way she had utterly ignored his age on Trenzalore he might have given the more apparent physical discrepancy between them more consideration, but he had never thought of her as a particularly fickle woman. Besides he recalled her saying once that she wasn't all that fond of 'boy bands' and soon enough she would have aged to the point where his previous self would have looked entirely wrong beside her anyway.

That bought him to his _other_ issue. The Chin had considered it, looked into it and ultimately shied away from doing anything about it; too much of a coward to face the notion. He on the other hand was more pragmatic. Clara's lifespan was intolerably short. Already he could see the effects of age on her, it had been 5 years from her perspective since a monk had presented himself on her doorstep and whisked her away, and in that time she had changed from a girl to a woman. The soft impish cuteness of the girl had softened into a truly beautiful woman who could melt even his cold heart with those huge doe eyes of hers and her wit had only sharpened in the time spent sparring with him; he and the chin at least could agree, that she was _perfect_. But soon that scale would tip, her age would stop becoming a benefit and become a hindrance. Her health would suffer, her mind would become less agile and one careless act would be all it took to take her from him.

There were ways to extend the human lifespan, he knew them all in fact. Some less appealing than others. Tasha Lem's method for example being one of those 'lesser' ones. But age was just one barrier, injury and death were another and those were entirely beyond the human body's ability to endure no matter the technologies invented. They all had to give at some point. Which was how he'd come to consider his own rather more unique method. He glanced at his hand and willed the regeneration energy to pool as it glistened there. He was still well within his 24hour period where the excess energy continued to bleed from him pointlessly. Pointlessly that was until he'd thought to try and collect it. The answer had been obvious of course as he'd quite mercilessly chopped off his own finger and dropped it into the canister he'd prepped; much like the hand he'd lost Christmas Day two faces ago he noted watching the finger re-grow with morbid fascination. The energy needed a matching biological receptacle to cling to or it was useless. Containing it had proved more of a challenge in the ten minutes he'd had, but he'd saved the world in less. He'd siphoned off this excess energy giving him more than enough of a supply and crucially time to consider the best way to utilise it on his errant wife.

Clearly he'd succeeded in some form or another in a now defunct future, he recalled her mostly ageless face from the cell in his predecessors memories. And whilst it wasn't enough to discourage him, it did give him pause; he had no wish to see that fate befall either of them. He rather liked her wilful bossy side too much to see it so broken, particularly by him. Nor did he want to see her cringe away from his touch, cowering in fear of him, hating him to her core enough to wish her own death. Whatever that man had been who had done those things, he knew he hadn't loved her, not as he did now, obsessed over her certainly, but not loved her, not like he still did.

So perhaps that was the point of all this, that twisted versions final victory, as he considered the desperation he'd witnessed in the face identical to his current one, the lost adoration and longing for the 'toy' he'd broken; he was consumed by it; by the desire to fix it and utterly failing. The Doctor leant back and laced his fingers behind his head the images unsettling him as a darker part of him completely empathised with the monster on his ice covered world, trapped by it and by the woman who'd refused to love him. That version hadn't failed he supposed, not in the end, he considered Clara's words, 'a trap' she'd called it, perhaps it really had been, after all _he_ was sat here, with the same monstrous mind... but a somewhat altered set of hearts, and a very different set of intentions. He supposed he had the Chin to thank for that; they had both set a trap it seemed just as Clara predicted and he was the one that was still caught in it, trying to decide if he was happy to be trapped, or if he would willingly gnaw his own arm off to escape.

Clara stirred on the monitor and he glanced at the clock surprised that several hours had passed, Jack had rather sensibly not returned, but the Jones' were likely to be back shortly. He flicked off the video feed and turned the monitor to something more unobtrusive as he scanned the hacked UNIT personnel files and recent incident reports, looking for something to occupy his time.

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><p>Clara awoke slowly, her head was still heavy and stuffy from the time spent crying, Jack's jacket still hung around her and she placed it guiltily on the bed beside her, pulling off the blanket instead and throwing that around her shoulders. She was more than a little surprised to find herself alone, she'd half expected the Doctor to have been sat in the room watching her sleep most of the night. Which sounded creepier than she'd intended, given as the Doctor she knew would have spent it worrying and trying to think of ways to fix it, to make her feel better. Unfortunately that was the whole point, he wasn't the Doctor she knew anymore. And he wasn't there. In fact by the looks of it he'd taken her plea to be left alone quite seriously. It was a curious feeling to actually ask for space and to be given it, perhaps there would be benefits to a more mature Doctor after all. She certainly hoped so because at the moment all she had seen were the more negative aspects.<p>

The blanket wrapped around her in the still slightly cool air she headed to the kitchen, somewhat surprised to find him sat there, drinking a cup of what she highly suspected was tea. She came to stand beside the table his eyes watching her over the rim of the cup, again she was disconcerted by the idea of not knowing what he was thinking.

"Is that tea?"

He gave her a nod.

"You hate tea." She added quietly.

"Correction, _he _hated tea, but then the last face had a somewhat defective set of taste buds. I find it perfectly pleasant. Although maybe could do with a dram of whiskey." He added giving her a look that she thought might have been playful if he practiced it more. "Would you like a cup?" he asked her innocently and she nodded, sliding into the seat at the table opposite him, whilst he set about brewing her one. He placed it down in front of her and retreated to the other side of the table, watching her quietly as he finished his own.

"Thank you." She offered after taking a sip and deciding this version probably hadn't deleted cooking after all, the fact that he'd got it just how she liked it was a little more reassuring than it should be as well.

"What would you like to eat?" he asked after she'd drained half the cup in silence. Her eyebrows rose.

"You want to make breakfast for me?" she asked feeling utterly lost, she'd expected there next conversation to be many things, domestic wasn't one of them. Frankly this polite distance from him was also unnerving, she didn't think they'd had one conversation since his regeneration where he wasn't touching her or invading her personal space in some way, confusing her already thoroughly confused senses further, not giving her a moment to actually think about what it might be like between them now.

He smiled almost fondly at her as he got to his feet, "We might be having something of a lovers tiff at the moment my dear, but I assure you it hasn't altered anything. I often cook you breakfast, I think it might be one of our better traditions."

She didn't know what to say to that, she just watched him as he expertly made her bacon and egg pancakes and placed the honey rather than syrup down in front of her without so much as a flourish. Clara caught his trailing hand in hers as he made to move back to his seat opposite on the far side of the table. "Sit with me?" she asked gently, indicating the seat beside her after all he'd been nothing but honest with her so far, painfully so in fact, she felt the need to reciprocate. He nodded, taking back his hand and retrieving his own plate as he eased into the adjacent seat.

"You understand this is difficult for me?" She managed, staring at the perfect plate of food in front of her.

"Because of a lack of apatite or because I got the recipe wrong?" he let the question hang there and she blinked stupidly back at him. His hand covered hers, "I'm joking my Love. I think it is a rather more wry wit this time around, I'm sure we'll get used to it." He patted her hand lightly as if in sympathy.

Clara closed her mouth. "Yes, I understand Clara." He sighed at her when she didn't proceed to eat. "And whilst I don't seem to have patience for many things, which by the way is not a trait I have ever possessed." he saw her slight smile of acknowledgement, and he drew her hand to his lips drawing her gaze with it until her eyes were locked on his "But for you I can do anything." It seemed to be a promise and she felt the conviction behind it, which also gave her pause as she wondered just what that might mean. "You and I will take time Love. I am not the man you knew, nor am I quite the man you feared I would be; which has left you wrongfooted, am I right?"

Clara nodded feeling the need to find her voice faced with this more eloquent version of him. "Yes. I just... I may need time to adjust." It was hardly poetry that she was returning or the same unwavering conviction, but at least she had managed something which when faced with his almost penetrating attention was more than she expected.

He nodded. "Are you afraid of me?" he quirked an eyebrow at this, examining her face intently.

"Possibly." Clara admitted feeling ridiculous and guilty and a little bit afraid even now as she felt the touch of his skin against hers, wearing into her resistance and trying to steal her senses.

"Probably healthy." He admitted. "I imagine I'd scare me a little too." He leant forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, brushing her hair lightly behind her ear in a gesture that made her simultaneously want to flee and lean into him. "We'll work on that Love." He promised and she looked back down to her food. He didn't offer anything else but began eating his food and she decided to listen to her grumbling stomach and do the same. It was oddly domestic and it actually bought about a pang of nostalgia for the times they had done this before when her husband hadn't been dragging her off-world for some wholly out of this world or occasionally god awful alien breakfast. She glanced across at him, wondering if that was exactly the point. For all his talk of being a different man, he was certainly trying hard to remind her of the things about that man she'd loved.

"How did you sleep?" he asked gently and she blinked, this was all a bit of a 180 in tone and content from the previous day from him and she was scrambling to catch up with the nuances. At least previously she'd had some idea of how to predict his moods.

"Okay I guess." She replied and she tried not to jump as his hand dropped to her knee, giving it a gentle squeeze that actually had her catching her breath as she stared at what she surmised was his irritated expression.

"If you'd prefer not to answer my question, that would be preferable to you lying to me." He gave her a look that suggested he knew how she'd spent her evening.

Clara sighed leaning back in her chair, his hand remained warm and gentle against her knee. "Sorry. This is... a little strange." 'Strange' was the best adjective she could come up with for sitting down to breakfast post fight about the darker nature of your husband who wasn't quite your husband anymore, not having the slightest clue what would set him off into a rage, or leave him giddy or even what might bring on a bout of melancholy.

He smirked. "Try it with a whole new set of taste buds and less than efficient kidney's and we'll talk 'strange'." He murmured and she felt instantly guilty. After all she wasn't the only one going through this. From his perspective he'd aged a thousand years, died, been reborn and found his wife more than a little hesitant to pick up where they'd left off... their one brief, somewhat passionate interlude not withstanding; but she was chalking that up to shock and her desperate need to connect with him, and probably that she was currently one walking mess of neurosis.

"I'm being a terrible wife." She muttered.

"Terrible is a broad term." He replied giving her knee an affectionate squeeze before he removed it letting his hand drop harmlessly onto the table top and she had to look at his face to see the feint way his blue eyes danced to realise he was teasing her. She rolled her eyes at him in response and bumped her arm slightly into his.

"Definitely wry." She commented, "I suppose I could get used to that." She added gently.

He smiled, his hand moving to settle over hers instead. "I feel I should make myself clear." He started and she tensed slightly at his serious tone as she met his gaze. "That possible future you and I glimpsed..." she paused, yet again the conversation was swinging like a pendulum between them and making her dizzy with the emotional whiplash it left behind. She felt herself tense involuntarily at the memory at the words he'd rasped below the TARDIS console that had so frightened her. "I have no wish to see that come to pass."

Clara let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. "Oh." she trailed off not sure in the least what to say to that, 'thank you' came to mind but she squashed it, she wasn't about to thank him for reconsidering turning her into a prisoner fearing for her sanity. She'd given him that rope earlier in an effort to trust him, and he'd damn near hung himself with it already.

He sighed clearly realising that there was a long way to go between them before she'd blindly accept his words, if she ever had, "I know my, _lapses_, earlier were disturbing," she considered the idea that he was dismissing them as a lapse, some sort of blip in an otherwise sound frame of mind, she wasn't convinced, "but I assure you my memory is quite intact now, as are my feelings for you."

Clara nodded, her eyes on her breakfast not daring to look at him, _feelings_ was a carefully selected word she noted, not an outright declaration of love, which she was actually relieved about, she wasn't sure how she'd feel about him staring intently at her and professing such a thing. Not yet. Although she was quite certain he did. Why else would he bother with any of this at all?

"Would a funeral help?" he asked in the same way that people might ask about the weather, completely throwing her again as he bounced seemingly between their conversations and her earlier trains of thought and she froze, looking at him like a deer in the headlights.

"What?" was all she could manage, staring bewildered back at him.

He smiled gently, reaching forward and stroking her chin. "You're grieving without grieving. A funeral for my last face may help." He was serious she realised.

"I don't think... well that doesn't seem appropriate given the circumstance." She admitted quietly feeling a little queasy.

He shifted in his chair, until his knee bumped hers and he turned her hand palm up, tracing a pattern over the skin and up to her wrist in a way that she found inexplicably soothing. She glanced down at it, realising that this version of him seemed to have a blueprint of her skin that his last self didn't and he wasn't above using it.

"Even in Time Lord society it was a practice occasionally indulged in for those who experienced a traumatising regeneration, or if the resulting personality was a significant deviation from those before. It could be therapeutic for both the family members of the 'departed' and for the effected. A way of closing a chapter of their lives if you will."

Clara closed her eyes, feeling the soft sensations of his touch all along her arm which was counteracting the mad desire she had to break down into a heap and sob for hours, again. Her eyes opened onto his curious ones and she saw nothing of the somewhat darker man that had so frightened her yesterday with his truth's. "Is this an act?" she asked quietly.

He quirked an eyebrow, fortunately he seemed to find the question amusing as opposed to offensive. "An act?" he repeated, leaning closer to her and drawing her hand into his chest until he could raise it to his lips and press a kiss to the back of it. "You think because I am perhaps capable of things my previous face was not, that I might love you less... want to make you any less happy than before?"

His declaration so soon after she had decided she wasn't ready for it was jolting. That guilty feeling resurfaced and she sucked in a breath, realising that whether she wanted to or not, she was more than a little attracted to this face, particularly as his touch kept reminding her of just what else he could make her feel. "So, not an act then." She replied as his fingers caressed hers.

"Hardly." He replied, "Eat your breakfast, it's getting cold." He added, releasing her hand and returning to his own meal, leaving her staring at him like an idiot.

"Stop doing that." She muttered, chewing quickly on the pancakes and deciding that he'd improved the recipe for them, it was actually a little jarring to realise he seemed to do everything a little more to her liking...

"Eating?" he quipped.

"Wrongfooting me." She replied, "And stop doing things better." She sighed, pushing the plate away, irritated now with her own inability to simply let this go, she'd thought it would be easier. But she really was a control freak and he wasn't letting her even get her footing enough to attempt an ounce of control. It was certainly uncomfortable for her to be so... lost with him.

He shrugged, "I regenerated more in tune with your needs my dear, it is a simple evolutionary benefit of being with a Time Lord." He glanced at her half empty plate and pulled it across, starting on it himself; apparently he was hungry after regenerating.

Clara ran her hands over her face in exasperation, "Maybe your right, maybe a funeral would help." She admitted, reconsidering the ridiculous idea he'd proposed. She half suspected it would actually make it worse, like putting a barrier between them she wouldn't be able to overcome because it would divide the two versions of him utterly in her mind.

They finished their meal in silence and she washed up the plates, not bothering to comment when he wordlessly began drying them. "I'm a little surprised Jack isn't in here, the smell of bacon is normally enough to draw him in from the opposite side of town." She noted keen to break the silence as she glanced at the clock and knowing he would have been asleep in his rooms a few doors over.

She caught the slight twitch of the Doctor's lips and rounded on him, "Did you talk to Jack by any chance last night?" she asked pointedly, unable to keep the accusing tone out of her voice.

He gave her a look that would have pinned lesser mortals to the wall behind her, "You were asleep in his jacket... yes we had a chat." He wasn't smiling and she rolled her eyes, but yet again she had to appreciate his honesty, whatever he was she sensed secrets might not be their problem. Not that it didn't make her any less angry at the insinuation.

"I can handle Jack Harkness." She jabbed a finger into his chest.

"Evidently." He replied, "I have no doubt the man would happily do anything you asked." There was a definite hint of jealousy there that she caught this time underneath the evident sarcasm.

"What did you say to him?" she snapped, although the question she almost felt she needed to ask was _'what did you do to him'; _but she held that back, not willing to believe he'd actually hurt Jack, not yet and wondering when it was she'd let her mind even start considering such a thing of the Doctor, because if he was anything she was certain he was still that, because no one could infuriate her like the Doctor, whatever his face.

He smiled thinly. "Just some home truth's between old friends." He took the mug she was holding from her and placed it away in the cupboard she couldn't reach. "And a simple reminder that it is impolite to repeatedly hit on another man's wife."

"Jack is just being Jack. It wouldn't matter who's wife I was, he'll hit on anything that has a pulse." She bit back the irritation flaring with him again, because no matter how pleasant he was she kept getting the unmistakeable feeling that there was an undercurrent to it all, just simmering beneath the surface and she didn't want it to break through.

The Doctor nodded, "Perhaps, but rest assured he won't be including you in that category again."

Clara gave him a withering look. "I can fight my own battles, if and when needed thank you very much." She snapped throwing the tea towel at his face, which of course he caught before it hit. She moved to leave and he stepped in front of her.

"I'm sorry my dear." He murmured, his hand going to her elbow and halting her movement. "Was I mistaken in assuming you did not invite or enjoy his lecherous intentions?"

Clara paused, hearing that tone again as she stared up at him, his fingers curling around her arm. The old him had been possessive but as she felt the tension in his hand the way his eyes bored into hers, she realised it really might be a defining trait of this new him. "Get out of my way." She snapped gritting out the words from behind her teeth, not wanting to let him control her like this.

He cocked his head and leant in until his lips brushed her ear, "I assure you my Love, you have no need to look outside of our marriage for such intentions." She jerked away from him shocked and couldn't help but back away from him her mouth open wordlessly as she felt her pulse spike in fear and something else as his words seemed to slide along her skin and she realised with mild horror that it was a spike of arousal, she actually liked it when he talked to her like that...

"You are such an asshole." She hissed, covering her discomfort with defensiveness.

He seemed to consider it and her new distance from him. "Perhaps." He shrugged. "But we are married, that does come with certain vows my dear, I would be remiss if I did not remind you that there is a price for breaking them."

Clara felt her eyes narrow at the whisper of his threat and she rounded on him stalking forwards. "Get this through your thick head." She snarled. "I am not sleeping with Jack Harkness, not now, not ever. We are friends and I swear to god if you've laid a hand on him, husband, I will ensure that your lecherous intent is never satisfied again." She threatened feeling her chest heaving with anger.

He gave her a dark look, his eyebrows high as he crossed his arms defensively. "Don't make threats you can't commit to dear." He smirked, "We both know out of the two of us who is more likely to give in to such intents..." his words did something to her stomach and she wanted to tear her own hair out in frustration as he met her with that intense, suggestive stare. Of course it would have been too much to ask that he not notice how he apparently affected her in this new face.

The slap she gave him would have been justified, if he hadn't caught her hand. He tugged her into his chest with the offending limb and wrapped her firmly in his arms until she could feel every inch of him against her. "Now now Love, you know how I feel about violence, or used to feel." His voice was like silk even if his words were a taunt as his hands trailed down her spine and she felt the unmistakeable pooling of heat between her legs. She glared balefully up at him and he kissed her hard, pushing her back into the counter and forcing her to draw in a startled breath as his tongue swept into her mouth drawing a moan from her she never intended to give. She felt anger flare at how easily he could manipulate her body and apparently her mind, she bit at his lips, her hands in his hair tugging at it sharply, he groaned into her mouth and she could feel her willpower crumbling.

But it was just sex, desire... this was him trying to manipulate her, it wasn't love and she refused to play this game with him to let it even become a game he thought he had a chance at. "No!" she snapped, shoving him away and clutching herself around the middle as she tried to catch her breath, her hand on the counter; the whole thing reminding her eerily of how this had all started... in a kitchen, washing up. This would have been easier if she didn't feel so right in his arms, if his every touch didn't ignite something in her that demanded she simply accept him as her husband. Perhaps it was the bond, she didn't know, part of her suspected that was just wishful thinking on her part; maybe she really was just that fickle that she'd take the Doctor however he came to her, even if he was an insufferable git this time round. Another more masochistic part of her wondered if it was her fault he was like this at all, that he'd regenerated just like he said to be what she wanted, needed, even if she hadn't been consciously aware it was. But she couldn't deny this version of him was affecting her, getting under her skin like nothing else had before.

He hovered behind her, but he didn't press, merely waited with a cold expression on his face as she turned back to him wide eyed and flushed. Her rejection was carved all over his face she realised seeing for the first time his mask slip a little and the anger he clearly kept hidden within spill free.

"I'll see about arranging a funeral shall I, I'm sure there are some items we could contribute to a funeral pyre to see my previous face on his way." His words cut and she blinked back tears as he stalked away, certain that her rejection had led him to make that last jab sting as much as it had.


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

Clara took her time to emerge from the kitchen right up until the point where she could hear Mickey and Martha enter the hub, clearly having collected Jack from wherever it was he'd gone to walk off... or possibly drink off the Doctor's words; his dulcet clearly slurred tones making her think it was probably the latter, which left her feeling guilty that she was partly to blame for whatever the Doctor had said to reduce him to that. Sighing heavily she made her way back into the control room, a little surprised to find the Doctor sat in her spot, his feet up on the console, jabbing at a keyboard, looking grouchy but not nearly as furious as when he'd stormed out of the kitchen. She approached him quietly, glancing at the TARDIS, she'd half expected him to take off in it to blow off steam, or just to alleviate boredom. He was obviously aware of her staring.

"She's regenerating." He muttered, not bothering to look up at her but clearly still able to pick up on exactly what she was thinking, even when he wasn't inside her head. She quirked an eyebrow at him, glancing back at the TARDIS and letting out a snort of derision. Of course she was, the Doctor clearly wanted out of here, so the Old Bat would pick now to force him to stick around.

Martha strolled into the control room, Clara looked up and saw her supportive smile... terrific clearly Jack had been talking; if she didn't know any better she'd think Martha was acting as some sort of peace envoy. "So Doctor... long time. You seem improved."

The Doctor swung around on his seat and eyed the young doctor up and down. "See Clara, now here's a woman who can clearly appreciate an upgrade when they see one." His smile was thin and Clara rolled her eyes at Martha's clear and sudden discomfort to realise she was clearly walking into the tail end of an argument.

"I meant from the unconscious comatose state Clara brought you here in." Martha crossed her arms, "But it's good to see you're so alert."

"And you Doctor Jones, so nice to see you again." He gave her an appraising glance that didn't seem to suggest it was nice at all and spun his chair back around, crossing his feet at the ankles on the desk and returning to antagonising the computer.

"Ignore him." Clara sighed stepping around his chair which he seemed to move out almost to block her from reaching Martha's side, "I think his personality is still rebooting. At least I'm hoping so." Martha smiled but Clara could see it wasn't reaching her eyes and she got the impression that what expression had made it was entirely for her benefit.

"Are you okay?" she whispered quietly, squeezing her arm supportively.

"I might look older but I can assure you Doctor Jones that my hearing is just fine!" the Doctor called over, not bothering to look their way but his tone was sharp enough.

"I'll be fine." Clara replied in a normal tone. "Just working out some marital issues." Which was putting it mildly. "He'll be off as soon as the TARDIS finishes her facelift."

"_We'll_ be off." He corrected sharply.

Clara turned to give him a glare. "Oh trust me, right now it's going to be just _you_!" she snapped. His expression twisted and she prepared herself for a backlash that never quite came, because the surface lift activated startling them all. Their eyes were drawn to it as it descended.

"Are we expecting guests?" Clara asked Martha uneasily.

"No." Martha replied, not breaking her stride as she went for the weapons concealed in the consoles, tossing her one.

"Don't I get a fancy alien ray gun?" The Doctors brash Scottish accent declared and Martha spun on him, her eyebrows almost rising to her hairline as she stared open mouthed in shock at him.

"You want a gun?" she asked sounding as shaken as Clara felt.

He shrugged and held out his hand. Martha gave her a look and Clara turned away, today this was the least of her worries and she had a suspicion he might just be doing it to wind her up, or possibly his old Companion. Martha slapped a gun into his outstretched palm and he inspected it proficiently, resting it on his lap leaning once more nonchalantly back in the chair feet still up.

"Mickey and Jack?" Clara asked, her eyes on the blast doors, no alarms had gone off, which was disturbing.

"Jack is indisposed." Martha muttered shooting the Doctor a look, Clara turned and he had the nerve to actually smirk at her, forcing her to suppress the urge to shoot him herself.

Fortunately the doors opened halting any further thoughts as a wave of soldiers flowed in, Clara held the weapon poised as they filed in before a very distinctive set of heels and blonde head followed behind them. Clara didn't quite lower the weapon when Martha did.

"Ma'am." Martha managed in surprise, "What are you doing here?"

"Maybe it's an inspection." The Doctor muttered with clear sarcasm and Clara took a step back, something leaden settling in her gut as Kate Stewart's gaze lingered on him, the woman was not here for a chat.

"Doctor." Kate's tone was clipped. "I'm going to have to ask you to step away from the console."

Clara turned eyeing the Doctor, noting he flicked the monitor off before she looked back to Kate. The UNIT soldiers hadn't lowered their weapons, which were trained on the Doctor. "Tell me you didn't?" She snarled rounding on him, he gave her a somewhat proud look and she couldn't help it, she clipped him around the back of the head and shoved his feet off the desk, reaching for the monitor and flipping it back on to reveal what she'd suspected. "You hacked them?" she gave him an exasperated look.

"Oh he did a little more than hack UNIT." Kate was using that calm, no nonsense tone she got when she really meant business. "He has taken control of our satellites, our defence systems and erased or corrupted almost all of our data files. Not to mention the damage he has done to NATO, the UN, MI6, the CIA, FBI, Facebook... should I go on?" Kate's eyes hadn't shifted from the Doctor but his gaze was fixed firmly on her as Clara stared back feeling her anger so easily stirred at the challenging unapologetic look on his face.

"We're you just that bored?" Clara hissed at him, trying to absorb just how much damage he could cause if he set his mind to it and not wanting to carry on down that dark thought.

He laughed lightly, "Oh come on Clara, where's your sense of fun." He grasped her hips and pulled her onto his lap wrapping his arm around her and preventing her escape completely ignoring the sudden flurry of movement from the men with the big guns. It was oddly reminiscent of the time Jack had done it, only she hadn't felt nearly as threatened as weapons clicked in both their directions. The Doctor's head shot to them and she could tell his expression was fierce because Kate seemed to pause. She never considered however that he'd placed her on his lap as a human shield, despite that being almost exactly what he'd done, more likely he was supremely confident they wouldn't actually shoot him, or her.

"Are you really stupid enough to point a gun at me?" the Doctor asked Kate tauntingly.

"Several." Kate replied not missing a beat. "But it's hardly what I wanted to do Doctor, you are forcing my hand. I really must insist that you release Ms Oswald and step away from the console."

The Doctor barked out a laugh that actually made Kate flinch and Clara tried to remove herself from his lap, only to be tugged back down with some force, he never did like being told what to do at gunpoint. "Tell you what Clara, why don't we play a game with the humans." He rasped in her ear. "It's called who's the better hacker... me or you." Clara glanced back at him, noting that he seemed to be excluding her from the 'human' bracket.

"All this because of the kitchen?" she bit out, wondering if it might really have been that simple and hoping to God it wasn't, that this was something else, something more. "Older but definitely not more mature." She snapped, trying hard not to feel disappointed that he seemed to be wilfully destroying all their memories of his previous selves. She almost hoped in a way this was a result of the kitchen, he'd had at least 10 minutes by her count to come in here and wreak havoc, she hated to think he might have planned this before their little spat, because that was an entirely different can of worms.

"Oh don't flatter yourself Love, I was bored and my motor wasn't running." He jerked his thumb at the TARDIS which was currently still grounded. "I thought this would be fun, got to test UNITs response time," he glanced over at Kate and her men, "Bit slow to be honest, the Brigadier wouldn't have allowed such shoddy discipline in his day. If I'd wanted I could have launched just about every nuclear warhead on the planet before you'd even realised I'd taken over, or crashed every stock market, that tends to have the same effect."

"Stop it!" Clara snapped at him, her hands clasping over his firmly and squeezing hard in her instance to force some sense into him, because she was almost certain UNIT weren't actually stupid enough to shoot the Doctor, but it meant that there wasn't anyone else to put him in his place.

"You have five seconds to comply Doctor." Kate warned. "I have explicit instructions from the highest levels of authority across the globe to remove you from our systems by force if necessary. I'd rather not give that order."

The Doctor still wasn't looking at Kate or her men, his gaze intent on her. Clara turned, trying to look for a flicker of something that would tell her what it was he was doing here. On instinct she reached out for his chin and locked her eyes on his, pushing with her mind. It glanced off the brick wall of a defence system he seemed to have erected this time around. Apparently it wasn't going to be that easy, she drifted back to what he'd said... he'd laid down a challenge.

"Four Doctor." Kate called, the countdown continuing.

_'Who's the better hacker'_ that had been the game he wanted to play. "What do I get if I win?" she asked an imperious eyebrow arched at him, hating that she was dancing to his tune and she had no idea what the song was, the lack of control sat unpleasantly inside her.

"Three."

"Access." He replied, tapping his temple with a sly smirk.

Clara stared hard at him, looking for the trap she suspected he'd lain, she just wasn't entirely sure why.

"What do you get out of all of this if you win?" Clara asked him

"Two." Kate barked and Clara heard the soldiers take an ominous step forward.

The Doctor twirled his fingers and she didn't react when suddenly his sonic was in his hand and he waved it overhead. The weapons the soldiers were carrying shot out of their hands and to the centre of the Hub that used to house the rift, as if it had suddenly become magnetised to the guns alone. Clara tried to grip onto her own for dear life, but saw it sail away from her at the same moment Martha's did; only the Doctors remained intact in his hand and he placed it rather obviously on the desk. There was a cry of surprise from behind her and she glanced up in time to see the automated targeting system spin out of the ceilings and rise up from the ground, training on the UNIT soldiers; clearly he'd overridden the Hub security protocols as well. A flash of fear raced through her and she felt the blood drain from her features.

"Just the joy of watching you work my dear." He admitted with what she suspected was sarcasm, his hands settling higher on her hips and spinning her back towards the console. "Chop chop though, I might have left something on a countdown." That she _really_ hoped was sarcasm.

"Doctor... please, see reason!" Kate shouted and Clara watched as Martha joined her, the Hub's guns trained on her every bit as much as the soldiers.

"Why?" he mocked as Clara turned to the console, her hands flying over the keys and pulling up the subroutines he'd been working on. He'd coded it in Gallifreyan. Typical.

"Doctor, we are your friends... please." Martha tried stepping forward and the gun turret to her right fired up.

"Ah, I wouldn't do that if I were you." The Doctor warned, and Clara tried not to shiver as his hand smoothed up her spine whilst she worked. "I imagine you being shredded in a hail of gunfire might distract my wife from her task."

"What happened to you?" Martha managed, sounding both horrified and slightly disgusted.

"I'm surprised Clara didn't tell you." The Doctor replied, "She seems so keen to share with her little Torchwood team in my absence."

"Stop distracting me." Clara muttered, her fingers flying as she tried to break his encryption, every piece of impossible hacking skills in her head fighting with what seemed to be his newly discovered ones.

His lips found the back of her neck and she hissed, hitting the wrong key stroke. "Damn it." She growled, hoping she hadn't just launched something. "Play fair or I don't play at all!" She warned him lowering her hands to his and shoving his hands that had started to wander back down. Surprisingly he seemed to oblige, turning his attention back to Kate and Martha. Her brain was working too fast to consider the full implications of all this, she just knew that she had to undo it somehow; he was giving her a chance, why she wasn't sure, but she intended to take it.

"So Martha, how's married life?" he asked glibly and Clara could almost hear Martha's concern shift to her husband elsewhere in the Hub.

"He's fine." Clara cut across the Doctor pulling up the internal monitors and noting that Jack and Mickey were currently locked down in one of the dormitories, Mickey was trying to jerry-rig the door whilst Jack seemed mostly just to be trying to wake himself up. "They're just detained." She added glancing at her friend and seeing relief there.

"Tick tock Love, I wasn't joking about the timer." He reminded, redirecting her attention to the aforementioned rockets which she'd already tried and attempted to disarm, so far she'd managed to just isolate their power grid, but she was sure there was a trip wire somewhere on a secondary power supply waiting to catch her.

"Doctor, why would you do this to us, to Earth," he snorted clearly unmoved by her plea for answers or some kind of empathy, "to your wife...?" Kate tried a softer tack and Clara felt the Doctor flinch in irritation.

"Clara Love, did you hear that?" he was talking to her but not really, so she chose to carry on trying to reclaim the CIA and FBI files from the virtual shredder the Doctor seemed to have doomed them to. "I don't think they think you have a chance; if I were you I'd be insulted."

Clara snorted. "I can handle his hack." She muttered giving Kate a grin that was part bravado part belief, "Trust me, he's all thumbs."

"Now now dear, we both know that's not what you really think." His mind brushed across hers and she let out a gasp at the shocking sensation, and the mental image of his all too clever fingers.

"I warned you." She hissed not looking back at him as she focused on the monitors, trying to wrench back control of UNIT's central processors whilst avoiding his traps within traps. "Or can't you stand a fair fight?" she taunted and she risked a glance back seeing his eyes dancing with amusement. Clearly he was enjoying this.

He sighed and dropped her waist, propping his hands behind his head and relaxing back whilst she worked, "Hardly a fair fight this really Love, you were the Dalek once remember, not me."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Martha and she didn't need to look at Kate to know she'd be wearing an equally horrified expression. But Clara shrugged it off, her memories of that particular life were sealed well away, she wasn't about to let his cutting remark throw her off. But it did inspire her in a strange way she supposed, the Dalek pathweb was like nothing else, even the Doctor couldn't counter it, or recreate it. So that's exactly what she did, she used elements of the Dalek pathweb to reconstruct and reinforce the damaged systems, building in layers of protection as she restored it.

"Now that's cheating." He muttered and she shot him a warning glance but he merely sat there watching her.

"Your idea." She smiled back smugly and his lips drew into a thin line. So at least she'd learnt two more things about this version of him; he was careless when he was bragging and he was a sore loser. The fact that he was wilfully endangering the planet and their friends she was leaving in a special box to be prodded at later as to what it meant about him.

The Hub's turrets were the last thing for her to restore, partly so that UNIT didn't decide just to shoot them both on the spot before she'd fixed their systems and also because he had left a rather unpleasant failsafe in the subroutine which she would also consider later. The turrets spun down and retreated and their stolen weapons dropped to the floor with a clatter, looking distinctly crushed.

The Doctor sighed and then slowly raised his hands together to clap her. "Well done my Love, well done; never had a doubt." He murmured pressing a kiss to her temple, her hands were shaking she realised as she glanced down at the keyboard where they still hovered, as the full extent of the panic she'd been feeling seemed to flood her and she all but shot out of his lap, putting several paces between them. Her hands found a wall and she placed her forehead against it, shutting out the world and just trying to breathe and calm the roiling nausea swirling in her stomach.

There was a beat when no one seemed to quite know what to do and she realised dimly that she had the only weapon in the room currently operational, she didn't quite remember when she'd picked up the one the Doctor had left discarded on the console, but it was gripped tightly in her hand now as she turned back to observe them. The Doctor was oddly quiet merely watching her as if waiting to see what she would do.

Kate recovered first, she approached her and held out her hand. "Clara, the weapon." She instructed.

Clara hesitated, looking back to the Doctor who was still sat casually in his chair watching them avidly, Kate had clearly noticed what she had, that the other weapons would be utterly non functional, crushed by the strength of the force that had specifically targeted and grabbed them. If she handed it over, Kate would surely turn it on the Doctor.

Clara hesitated, her grip on the gun tightening. "What's your plan Kate?" she asked quietly.

"Lock him up." Kate replied with conviction, as she spoke a group of her soldiers seemed to flow as one at the Doctor, manhandling him up out of his seat and slapping some very fancy looking cuffs on him as he barely protested, looking faintly bored now that all the excitement seemed to be over. "He's a menace, always has been, but given as he used to have this world's best interests at heart, it was overlooked. I can't overlook this." Kate replied quietly, almost apologetically to her, rather than the Doctor she noted. Disappointment and no small amount of fear seemed to be warring over the other woman's face and Clara wondered if it was a mirror to her own.

She considered pointing the gun at Kate, at ordering them to release the Doctor and let them simply step into his TARDIS and fly away. Except she knew her threat would be empty, she wasn't going to hurt Kate and they'd know that too. Nor was she entirely certain she was ready to throw her life on Earth away, to step into a Box with what she was seriously beginning to think was genuinely this time around, a madman, one she happened to still be married to.

"You expect to hold him?" Clara asked not able to keep the incredulity out of her voice as the soldiers quite deliberately shoved a black bag over the Doctor's head, like it would help any.

Kate sighed, dropping her hand as if realising Clara wasn't about to hand the gun over. "Clara, there are protocols in place for this, and I'm sorry to say they have been in existence for a very long time. You may not be aware, but one of the primary functions of Torchwood was to defend the Earth against alien threats... specifically the Doctor."

"He's done nothing but help this planet." Clara snapped.

Kate smiled grimly, "I do believe the population of Pompeii would disagree... to mention just one incident"

Clara opened her mouth to argue the extenuating circumstances of that 'incident' but Kate held her hand up stopping her. "I know Clara, I do. But the Doctor is not the only Time Lord we have encountered, I think it's safe to say that we have learnt our lessons well. Whilst the Doctor is an incredible ally, we cannot allow him to become an enemy."

Clara felt like she was grinding her teeth, irritation and anger at both UNIT and the Doctor was warring for control. "For God's sake Kate... he's coming off the back of the worst regeneration he's ever had, after a millennia of fighting a war. He needs time. This..." she gestured indicating the chaos he wrought, "it is nothing more than regeneration sickness screwing with his head. I promise you if you just give him a little time he'll..."

Kate cut her off abruptly. "With a little more time Clara he could easily cripple all of Earth's defences again, bring chaos to our infrastructure and leave us little more than a smoking crater. I don't have the luxury of waiting out his mood swings." There was definite anger there now Clara realised coming from the other woman.

"So you lock him up and throw away the key?" Clara hissed as they began frog marching the Doctor out of the Hub, back towards the surface lifts, her eyes tracked him, her hand tightening around the gun.

"Only until such time as he or someone else is able to convince us that he poses no threat to the Earth or it's people." Kate sighed, sounding weary now beneath the anger, "Trust me Clara I have no wish to see the Doctor as our enemy, because it will be a dark day indeed when that happens. But you yourself warned me that if he came back, he might not be the same man, might not be someone we could rely on."

Clara felt like she'd been sucker punched. She had said that, in confidence, not imaging that Kate would actually use it as ammunition against the Doctor. Granted he had provided them with more than enough of his own to use against him anyway.

"So what about me?" Clara asked, watching the Doctor's back retreat behind the wall of black clad soldiers as a ripple of concern for him and for the Earth passed through her. Because she was torn, utterly, if she had to choose between the two of them, her husband or her world she wasn't certain she'd make the wise choice; the sane choice. She levelled her gaze on Kate, certain some of her dark thoughts were showing. "Do I get a cosy little cell in some UNIT facility too?"

Kate's eyes gave her away in that instant, it was almost as if she hadn't considered the idea that she'd need to. "I don't think that is necessary, you aren't a threat to the Earth's security... are you?" She turned to leave, clearly expecting that to be a rhetorical question.

"You do realise the Doctor always has a plan." Clara pointed out, seeing Martha out of the corner of her eye nod in silent agreement despite her clearly shell shocked state as she eyed the inner hub waiting for Mickey to materialise no doubt now he'd been released. Kate paused and glanced back at her questioningly. "If he's ended up inside a UNIT cell, then it's because that's exactly where he wanted to be." Clara pointed out wondering quietly if this was how the Doctor felt sometimes, exasperated by the short sighted idiocy of those around him.

"Perhaps." Kate acknowledged, "But that's out of my hands now, he forced us into this. Besides I think sometimes the Doctor forgets just how much he has shared with the human race about himself and his abilities. This wouldn't be the first time we've built an impenetrable cell to hold something like him and the American's were more than happy to share the blueprints."

Clara frowned, she didn't know what they were referring to she couldn't recall a time the Doctor went to America, but then it didn't mean she'd been to every point in his past and her memory wasn't the most reliable. The idea was a little unnerving though.

"Lake Silencio." Martha supplied and Clara was none the wiser, but she filed the information away for later.

Kate's glanced at her phone, "I should thank you Clara, it would seem you have managed to restore almost everything that the Doctor corrupted. We are in control once more."

Clara felt her lips purse. "You're most welcome." She smiled thinly with just about as much saccharin in her response as she could and she watched it cause Kate to flinch, as the penny finally dropped, their eyes locked. Apparently the choice wasn't as hard as she'd imagined after all, 'the Doctor or the Earth'.

"You aren't going to let us simply take him are you?" Kate asked her quietly, realising that anyone who could so thoroughly undo the Doctor's work when just about every so called expert on this planet had failed, was indeed a _threat_.

Clara kept her tone even, so as not to give away that she was terrified and shaking like a leaf on the inside, her eyes drifted to the gun, so did Kate and Martha's as they all seemed to consider it. "You know I've learnt a thing or two from my dear husband, the Doctor as well." Clara told them evenly; surprised at just how flat her voice could sound when she was trying not to fall apart. "Like how you don't need a gun to be the most dangerous person in a room." With that in mind she quietly strode across to Kate and handed the gun over to her with a smirk. "Or how if you're ever inside someone's computer systems, it's probably wise to build yourself a backdoor, just in case."

Kate paled. "Don't make me do this Clara." Her voice wavered and she reached out taking the gun, her hand lingering over hers, but Clara didn't soften her stance at all as the silence seemed to lengthen between them as they both considered the implications of what she was doing.

Martha was suspiciously quiet and Clara shared a look with her that seemed to lead to an understanding between them; 'love made you do stupid things'. Her sad smile seemed to acknowledge that this might well be the last time they saw each other.

"You forced my hand when you declared my husband an enemy of the planet." Clara shrugged, turning Kate's words back on her.

Kate took the gun and held it loosely in her hand, the look of utter resignation on her face growing into a dawning sense of unease that somehow she had lost control of this situation without quite realising it again... it was a situation Clara could sympathise with, this Doctor tended to have that effect. Clara held out her wrists and waited as Kate barked an instruction into her earpiece, which was quickly followed by the sounds of booted footfalls as two soldiers reappeared. Clara held steady as they approached and more gently than they had the Doctor slid their fancy restraints over her wrists. Clara let them lead her away, Kate following quietly in their wake as she followed the Doctor. It didn't matter where they took her, she was certain that her ending up in a cell hadn't been part of the Doctor's plan at all, which right now, taking back this control from him over her own life, it would have been priceless if it wasn't so unnerving.


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

Clara sat patiently in her cell, it was relatively low tech and she half hoped that UNIT weren't foolish enough to think that a cell like this would hold the Doctor, low tech or not. Saying that she had once witnessed three of him utterly flummoxed by an unlocked wooden door, but then they might have just been distracted trying to out-do one another with their cleverness.

At least she was alone, no cell mates... no windows either, just harsh fluorescent lights on the 'other' side of the cell behind a huge viewing window; privacy not included it seemed. Her finger tapped at it absentmindedly, it was thick, probably bullet, shatter 'and whatever else they could find' proof. The toilet at least had some form of modesty shield around it in the form of a concrete wall it was nestled behind in the corner of the cell. Wonderful.

So far no one had been to debrief, interrogate or in any way tried to speak to her. She'd only been half joking when she'd asked the soldiers who'd locked her in here if she could have her phone call. Apparently UNIT wasn't big on humour in its soldier training programme, they'd looked blandly back at her before marching away. Probably to stand outside the entrance to the cell block, just in case she got out. Apparently Kate had taken the 'threat' of Clara Oswald more seriously than she'd imagined. Of course that meant she had been here almost a whole day with only a tray of surprisingly decent food shoved through her cell door to give her something to break the monotony. If this really was going to be her future, which right now she wasn't quite willing to accept, then she was going to need something to entertain herself, a book at the very least. But a part of her strongly suspected she wouldn't be in here long, just long enough until Kate and they... whoever 'they' were found some use for her again; or until the Doctor inevitably escaped.

Although in her heart of hearts, she deeply suspected that the Doctor would find some way to escape and probably collect her along the way once he realised she was locked up inside a UNIT HQ somewhere, if he didn't know that already. The question was, would she go with him? She'd made promises, his heartbeat tripped quietly and steadily inside of her mind, a constant reminder of their connection and her promise. Perhaps it was a cliché but she got the impression that this Doctor, this version of the man she loved, needed her more than he ever had. Could she really be cold enough to simply cut him loose when he was so clearly lost? It would be easier if she didn't love him, transferred or not, she loved him, even when she was crying, furious or just frankly terrified because of him, it was still there. Which was frankly disturbing if she spent too long thinking about it. There was certainly no human frame of reference for it, not really; this was embracing the alien side of the Doctor and this life she'd chosen thoroughly. Of course he'd warned her about it, right from the start, and she'd hesitated, of course she had; only an idiot would have blindly agreed to marry the Doctor and put herself through what she had, for what was for all intents and purposes a madman. But agreed she had, because she'd had faith, she'd be damned if she'd loose that faith now just because it had been rocked a little bit.

She glanced around the cell which might become her permanent residence and accepted that perhaps her faith had been rocked more than just a _little_ bit.

* * *

><p>Two days later she was starting to go a little stir crazy. She had no visitors, the soldiers who delivered her food seemed to be under pain of something... unpleasant, to ensure they didn't even make eye contact with her let alone speak to her. Of course she'd asked for books, a pen and paper, even a crayon, music, pictures, just something to help her pass the time and every plea had gone unanswered. It was almost like they'd forgotten that she was a human being that may well go out of her mind like this. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking on their parts.<p>

So it was something of a surprise when on the third day (determined by when the lights cut out) to replicate night, that her outer cell door opened. Clara shot to her feet, all but running to the glass face and staring almost painfully hopefully at the metal door as it hissed open.

Jack Harkness strode in, his expression seemed pained for a moment until his eyes settled on her and it instantly softened into a smile. "Hello beautiful." He came to stand opposite her, his hands in his pockets, looking to the casual observer like he didn't have a care in the world.

"Jack." She replied, surprised at just how croaky her voice was from misuse in just a few days she cleared it and smiled back at him, pressing her hand to the glass. He hesitated a moment before raising his own to match against hers.

"So I finally had the pleasure of meeting the new new Doctor." He offered with a wry smile, "Never thought I'd meet a version of him I couldn't get along with." His expression turned grim and Clara dropped her hand from his, lowering her gaze.

"Don't give up on him Jack." She admonished quietly, hugging herself around her middle subconsciously.

"Give up on him?" he snapped with more than a hint of incredulity, "Clara I don't know who that man is, but he isn't any Doctor I've ever met. Sure he could be cold on occasion, callous and downright alien at times; but he was never malicious just for the sake of it."

Clara sighed. "You only met two versions of him. He hasn't always been a peach." She muttered not sure which of them she was trying to convince.

"Why'd you do it?" he asked, following her as she stepped along the perimeter of her cell, trying to keep her eye line. "You could have just let Kate have the gun, if you were determined to help him there were better ways than this." He indicated her current predicament with clear exasperation.

Clara turned to glance at him, noting the way he was watching her, it was more wary than before, almost like he didn't dare to drop his gaze from anything but her face. "I take it the two of you had a friendly little chat." She asked seeing his eye twitch fractionally.

"Oh yes, lovely little chat. Like I said, wonderful man that husband of yours." His sarcasm was evident, which was ridiculous because a statement like that about the Doctor really shouldn't have to be laced with sarcasm.

Clara sighed. "I said he wouldn't like it." Not that it excused the Doctors behaviour, but it was at least strangely comforting to know that she could still read him. Jealousy had always been a flaw of his, it came with the narcissistic egomania she imagined.

"That you did." He acknowledged, sounding very American in that moment as he managed an uneasy grimace.

Clara eyed him shrewdly, "Why are you here Jack, because I know it's not to bust me out." She knew him well enough to know that he would be cracking jokes and dancing around her with barely suppressed enthusiasm if he had a plan.

He looked her dead in the eye. "The Doctor escaped."

"I'm shocked." She deadpanned.

Clara paused, noting his demeanour afresh, not in the least bit surprised by the news, his eye roll indicated he thought about as much as she had of their 'imprison the Doctor' idea. "So you're here to what, guard me?" It was a sickening feeling to realise that a friend was very possibly turning his back on you.

"Never thought I'd say it, but it came down to a choice between the Earth and the Doc... way he is right now, I gotta pick the Earth." He was almost apologising... almost, but she could understand the sentiment after all hadn't she been forced into a similar choice?

"And me?" she pressed, surprised to find that her voice wasn't wavering. "What about me Jack?"

He smiled that sad little smile again touching the glass between them, "You love your husband. And whatever he is, whether he loves you or not I don't know, but he's a jealous bastard, possessive at a guess; that makes this cell his most likely target."

"His TARDIS would be a better bet." Clara replied with a hint of bitterness that Jack clearly detected if his wry smirk was anything to go by.

"Yes well his TARDIS is where you are. I'm betting he'll come for you before he heads for it." He admitted and Clara suspected he was probably right.

Clara stared hard at him, trying to understand what was going through his head. "You don't want to be between me and him... you know that." She pointed out quietly, recalling the state she'd heard him in after a short conversation with this new Doctor.

"Story of my life." He muttered with a hint of irony. "But seriously Clara, who else are they going to put down here between you and him... I'm an un-killable man. Obvious choice really." He turned away from the glass, facing the sealed metal door.

"Try another one." She warned, "Because I'm not buying it." And she wasn't, whatever Jack was, whatever the Doctor said to him, he'd never really hurt the Doctor, not permanently at any rate... nor be convinced he didn't have some sort of hare-brained plan that this all fed into.

He didn't even look back. "Woman's prerogative I suppose." His shoulders lifted in a shrug.

"You want another little chat with him?" she guessed, and saw him tense fractionally, "Or is it that you don't think he's such a lost cause after all." He dropped his head shoulders slumping, and she smiled despite herself confirming her own suspicions about the great Jack Harkness. "Oh come on Jack don't go all sentimental on me."

"Wouldn't dream of it Beautiful." He murmured straightening up and keeping his gaze firmly on the door as if he expected the Doctor to come barrelling through at any moment. Clara almost wished he would, but she highly doubted that if the Doctor was going to come for her it would be in anything as obvious as a full frontal assault. Certainly not in this face, this one was definitely more into the whole machiavellian plan thing.

She was half right anyway, she saw the gas before Jack did as it seeped in through the grates in the ceiling, fortunately her cell seemed to be air tight and on a separate ventilation system, safely behind it's impenetrable glass and concrete walls... or whatever it was they were constructed of. But she hesitated in calling to Jack in alerting him to the threat, her eyes lingered on the whisp of it as it entered the room, before becoming all but completely colourless.

"Jack." She managed quietly and he turned to look at her, her mouth opened and closed and whatever she had intended to say died on her lips. "Thank you." His eyes widened but she could see it was already too late, his pupils had dilated to the size of saucers.

"Clara." He managed, coughing suddenly, his hands clutching at his chest as if in pain and as his eyes seemed to flutter as he fought for consciousness before he fell hard against the glass between them with a thud, sliding to the floor and surrendering to unconsciousness. God she hoped it was just unconscious, not that it would matter with Jack if the gas had been fatal, but the implication of the Doctor pumping a toxic gas into UNIT's air filtration system was too much.

The large metal door hissed open and she lifted her gaze to the figure that stepped through, his hands in his pockets, the red inner lining of his jacket flaring out and drawing the eye. Her lips pursed as she realised she was more than a little thrilled to see him there, to know he'd come for her despite whatever else she was feeling.

"Miss me Love?" he smirked, those eyebrows of his dancing with amusement, clearly he was having the time of his life outsmarting and outwitting Earth's finest defence force.

Clara crossed her arms defensively, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was relieved to see him. "That depends, is he dead or asleep?" she indicated Jack.

The Doctor stepped in letting the metal door seal behind him and glanced down dispassionately at Jack. "Oh _he's_ definitely dead." He replied, smiling dangerously up at her the inflection on the _he's _telling her enough.

Clara pursed her lips, but she was learning to read between the lines with this _him_. "And the rest of them?"

His smile widened a little his eyes scanning her she noted, probably looking for signs of damage. She had never been more grateful for relatively gentle kid-gloves the soldiers had used on her. "Unconscious." He admitted, "Even UNIT aren't foolish enough to use a deadly toxin as a redundancy system base-wide... just in the cells for certain eventualities." Clara nodded, deciding not to point out needlessly the fact that he could have easily redirected those fatal toxins throughout the base if he'd wanted. She was just glad that he hadn't.

He stepped up to the glass and his hand pressed to it, almost on instinct she pressed hers opposite, staring up at him. "Would it be terribly inappropriate of me to say just how much of a turn on it is to see you behind bars my dear?"

Clara quirked an eyebrow at the clear glass between them and the complete lack of bars.

"Metaphorically speaking." He laughed lightly, but the intense look he was levelling at her was enough to bring a blush to her cheeks.

"Do you intend to just stand there and admire me, or are you here to break me out?" Clara pressed, aware that dead or not, Jack wouldn't stay that way for long and she really didn't want to hear the vile barbs these two would inevitably sling at one another.

"I don't know, I quite like the admiring plan, it's been three days my dear in solitary confinement. A thousand years before that. A man has needs you understand." His tone was light, but that intensity was still in his eyes and she rolled her own, feeling heat lick at her belly in response; apparently even with a sheet of extremely thick glass between them his effect on her body hadn't lessened. Damn him. "But I suppose escape could be useful." He admitted, pulling out a device that wasn't his sonic she noted with surprise. "They sonic proofed the building." He added at her look. "Had to go for a laser version... wish it had been my idea but they still had the Masters lying around in their laboratories. Careless really, the isomorphic controls were child's play to rework."

Clara could see it then, in the acidity of his tone and the tension in his frame, he was angry, livid even that they'd had the audacity to lock her away. _Him_ he could clearly understand after all he'd pushed them into it. Clara stepped closer to the glass to him as he worked on the lock.

"You know they had no choice. I forced them into this every bit as much as you did." She tried and he didn't look at her, his lips pressing into a thin line with clear distaste that she'd defend them.

The cell door opened and she had a moment to absorb the notion that she was free to go when he reached in and grabbed her hand, pulling her out and without seeming to pause she felt her back pressed against the glass and his lips crashed over hers. The feel of him was as heady as ever as his hands trailed her body, their tongues meeting and sending shocks of electricity through her as she struggled not to simply moan as her hands rose to the back of his head, sliding along the soft hair and tugging just enough to make his breath hitch. She wanted him, angry, scared or disappointed it didn't seem to matter what she was feeling, the want when he was touching her just wouldn't abate. He sighed her name against her lips and she felt her blood pump that little bit faster, her skin tingling at the way he caressed the name.

Pausing she pulled back just long enough to slap him, hard. He was perhaps distracted enough to let her, that or he felt he deserved it, but her hand stung where it connected and his head rocked to the side. His sharp blue eyes found hers and she could see the flicker of pain ignite to full blown arousal with nothing of the contriteness she wanted from him in that moment. Because she was every inch as furious as him, but for entirely different reasons. His grip tightened around her waist and she grabbed the back of his head, tugging him down to crash her lips against his. Relief pushing aside the anger momentarily as she let him hold her, drawing out sensation after sensation with his lips, as they trailed a course down her throat.

And God did she wish it could just be about lust about _want_, but she could feel the intent behind his every touch and caress as his hands scanned over her, looking for injuries, his mind flickered on the edge of her consciousness and she felt his concern beneath the rage. Clara pulled back desperate for breath as his mouth threatened to reduce her legs to jelly, catching his face in her hands, her anger bleeding away into a quiet heat inside her. "I'm fine." She managed breathlessly realising how badly he needed the reassurance; he stared hard at her with those crystalline eyes of his still whilst his hands slowly rose to brush her arms before settling around her biceps holding firm. She didn't broach the subject of his mind, despite the fact that she could feel it pounding at the edge of her consciousness. Apparently he was a man of his word and she had won their little challenge after all... this was supposed to be her prize, '_access'_; only right now she couldn't have been more terrified of knowing what he was thinking.

As she stared up at him she realised he looked a little haggard, his hair was unruly, his skin a little paler than usual and there was the feint darkening of a few days old bruise across his right cheekbone. Instinctively her fingers rose to it brushing over the sensitive skin, she didn't ask him if he was ok, the simmering rage in his eyes wouldn't permit it she realised. Instead she lifted up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to the slightly damaged skin, seeing his eyes flutter closed for a moment as he released a soft breath against her, his hand rising to her back to press her softly against his chest. _Why was love never simple?_ She felt the curve of his lips at her unspoken question and she closed her eyes just enjoying the feel and smell of him, of being in his arms and imagining that they weren't in a UNIT facility, running from their former friends.

"Tell me why we're here?" She pressed breaking the moment and pulling back to see his face clearly; he frowned, clearly expecting her to simply take the answer for herself from his mind; the window cracked temptingly for her to peek inside. She resisted. But she was absolutely certain now that there was a reason for all of this, she'd merely hoped before but now she _knew_ that none of this had been the idle doodlings of his bored mind.

Apparently he had no such compunctions about accessing her thoughts and she struggled not to lock them down the way he'd taught her what seemed like years ago now. Maybe it was, it had certainly been centuries for him.

"You're half right. I was bored, took a stroll into their systems... didn't much like what I found." He admitted but that was all she got as he turned to go, grasping her hand and pulling her with him, forcing her to draw her own conclusions.

"They were infiltrated?" she asked as he popped his head out of the cell door and she noted the incapacitated guards on the floor. "How long until they wake up?" she asked nervously.

"Not long, they've been inoculated against the gas, security measure in case they were ever compromised. I had to amp it up just to put them on their asses." He assessed, breaking into a half run and pulling her firmly behind him.

"The TARDIS?" she asked, almost certain she knew where they'd have put it. His look suggested she was right. "How do we get it out of the Black Archive, that place is TARDIS proof?" she questioned.

He glanced back at her before casually dropping to retrieve a weapon from one of the fallen soldiers, her eyes lingered on the offending weapon, on the reminder that his mindset was entirely different now. "Mostly TARDIS proof." He admitted with a wry smirk at her exasperated expression, "Sometimes it's better to let people think they have the best of you, always makes them overconfident. And humans, they do like to feel confident in their abilities to protect themselves, however delusional they may be." There was definite sarcasm there and she smacked his arm.

"Oy, human remember!" She snapped feeling affronted that he'd all but called them, her included 'damn filthy apes'.

"Barely, but if this was the planet of the pudding brains my dear, you would most definitely be the soufflé." He muttered turning away his mind locking down before she had cause to prod the depth of that thought, or determine whether that was actually a compliment or not.

They ran, it wasn't fast enough a bullet ricocheted past her almost taking her shoulder with it, missing her only be millimetres and she felt the Doctor slam her hard into a concrete wall backing them around the corner, pressing her into it and shielding her with his own body as he extended his arm, it took her a moment to grasp his intention before he returned fire around the blind corner.

"Don't." She pleaded, her hand going to his arm, her plea unclear and he didn't look at her, the gun still ready. "Please, don't kill them, it isn't you." She whispered.

He did look back at her then. "They are firing at you love, it is definitely me." The words stirred something primal in her and she saw the look reflected back and she wondered if it was a Time Lord thing, or if it ran deeper than that, if that was just what it was to love someone this foolishly.

Clara sighed, reaching up and taking the gun from him, he relented with some resistance as she tugged it from his fingers. "I'm a better shot." Was the only explanation she gave as she raised the weapon in front of her with a proper grip, just like UNIT had taught her in her extended time with them. She wasn't going to add that she couldn't bear to see him doing the killing, of the two of them she felt her moral compass could risk slipping a little further. Clara peered her head around the corner, noting the downed bodies from his previous apparently all too successful attempt and pressing her lips thin in distaste as she tugged him with her, her eyes not lingering on those bodies as she deliberately stepped over them, because she was certain he hadn't merely winged them. This doctor was nothing if not efficient.

"Tell me." She hissed as he pulled out that laser screwdriver and held it in front of him, she cast a look at it, wondering if it had been the Masters if it was as lethal as his sonic had been safe. He quirked an eyebrow at her, his eyes darting as he took in the layout, knowing it infinitely better than her it seemed as he guided them quickly. "Tell me about what you found in their systems?" she pressed, needing an answer now more than ever as she ducked a hail of gun fire. Her hand extending and returning fire on instinct as she was given a firsthand look at just what the laser screwdriver could do as the soldier right in front of her was hit solidly in the chest and slammed back into the wall and didn't move again, quite dead.

"Do you remember the Great Intelligence?" he asked dispassionately pulling her up to her feet and forcing them onwards. She threw him a look that asked him not to patronise her. "Yes well, it wasn't him, but it wasn't far off. Something more like Mighty Jagrafess of the Holy Hadrojassic Maxarodenfoe, of course that turned out to be the Dalek's, but the theories sound." He added seeing her look.

"You have no idea what is infiltrating it do you?" she pointed out.

He glared back. "No not really. Other than that it was malicious and it's been watching, learning for a long long time. Working out the best way to kill the entire human race, by making them kill themselves. Pushing them darker and stupider." He sneered with derision as they dodged another round of gunfire, at least it was only one or two soldiers recovering at a time she noted, managing to take out the gun arm and knee of this one, and shoving the Doctor's hand away as he went to follow up. He didn't comment, just pulled them onwards, his longer legs slowed by her short ones. "Should have realised" he continued, "right about when they started resorting to that ridiculous Osterhagen Key nonsense... or that trick Kate pulled with the self-destruct and the Zygons." He tutted in clear disgust. "Humans." He barked. "Always so trigger happy, never willing to take the hard path, to slug through the dirt to find a different way, too willing to think it is time to throw in the towel and do the unthinkable. Just wanting to wave around the _ultimate solution_ as if it is the _only_ solution. Mutually assured destruction combined with human stupidity... bad combination."

Clara tried not to take offence to his words, after all it was her species he was deriding, but right now she wasn't sure she exactly disagreed with him. "I honestly don't know why I bothered with them for so long." He added and she pulled him up short at that.

"I'm going to take that personally in a minute." She snarled at him, tugging him by his lapels until he was in her eye line.

"Don't." He bit back, stealing a kiss quickly. "My companions have always been the best of humanity." Clara rolled her eyes not entirely mollified, as he grasped her hand and pulled her sharply into a doorway she recognised glancing upwards in concern at the memory wipers situated every few feet.

"Disabled?" she asked hoping he'd taken care of it.

"Retargeted." He supplied with a smirk. "Just don't let go of my hand." He added, curling his fingers tighter around her and pulling her into the length of his body. "Anyone that isn't Time Lord, or who's signature is being masked by one, is going to regress to a toddler for the next few hours, and as delightful as I'm sure you were as a child my dear, I am not the paternal sort."

Clara nodded glancing upwards nervously, her gun at her side as they approached the large wooden door with its multiple array of keys. "Does that thing do wood?" she asked him indicating the more dangerous screwdriver he was gripping lightly.

"Oh yes." He laughed pointing it at the centre of the door and she flinched as the beam shot out and instantly the whole thing seemed to start smoking, burning a whole straight through until it was shaking violently, in moments it was reduced to a pile of ash.

"I'm not sure this Master and I would have gotten along." Clara noted quietly as they stepped over the threshold into the Black Archive.

"Oh I'm sure he would have found you delightful my dear. But then he always wanted my toys, even as a boy... shame I never really learnt to share." He pressed a kiss to her forehead, taking the sting out of referring to her as a toy for the time being as her eyes swept the room.

The TARDIS was inside the sealed enclosure that Jack's Vortex Manipulator had been in before she'd swiped it, the Old Girl looked oddly forlorn and she wondered if she was picking up her telepathic field through the Doctor's joined hand.

"So that was your solution destroy it all to fix the problem?" Clara pulled him to a stop, dragging them back to the earlier conversation, not willing to leave until she was certain they'd fixed whatever the problem had been.

He glanced between her and the TARDIS, clearly itching to free his box, but she set a hand on her hip. He seemed to consider how much effort it might take to just lift her up, throw her over his shoulder and go to his beloved box anyway, but clearly her expression was clear _'just you try it Mister'_ it screamed.

"Is that what I did?" he challenged. And she opened her mouth to respond before closing it at the smirk on his face as she considered it.

"And what about all those traps you left for me... were they a lie, a show as well?" she snapped, knowing full well the threat had been real and hating him for making her play along.

"What is any rescue without a little challenge my dear." He caught her chin with his thumb and forefinger. "Had to make it look real after all."

"You're an insufferable ass." She told him again, meaning it.

"Yes." He acknowledged without apology, "But the threat was eradicated along with the humans piss poor excuse for a defence system. Then you rebuilt it from the ground up did you not, that lovely little repair job you did should keep anything else out... well anything that's not Dalek at the very least." He added.

"So tell them!" Clara snapped. "Let them know why you did all of this, that you were saving them!"

He snorted. "And what would they have learned then my dear?" he hissed, tugging her forward now and indeed seemingly like he was willing to risk her wrath as he managed to make it to the outside of the enclosure that held his precious TARDIS.

"That you're not the enemy!" she shouted exasperated with him now.

He gave her a withering look. "And that I will swoop in and save the day... save them from themselves?" he sneered. "Better the devil they know. They are toddlers Clara, dangerous toddlers that have found a shed full of the Universes' most dangerous toys. They have been coddled long enough by the idea that the Doctor will save them. It is time they learnt that nothing can save them from themselves if they aren't willing to sharpen up."

"So you what... put the fear of God in them?" she tried not to let it sound like she was mocking him but the way his jaw tensed she realised she'd obviously failed in her tone.

"Better they learn to defend themselves in fear of me... than revere me and wait patiently for the day I won't come to save them." He kept his grip on her one hand firm as he pointed the screwdriver at the panel, its functions swirling until it cycled onto a green panel and the door slid open with a hiss.

"You always save them... _us_!" Clara snapped, angry at her own slip, at the distance he'd managed to make her put between her and her own people, her own world. And furious with herself that she had barely noticed.

He stared down at her. "Things change." He replied, squeezing her hand and making to step into the room, the TARDIS door swung open expectantly.

"Doctor." She pleaded and he paused, hearing the pain in her voice, seeing the tears that were spilling over her cheeks. "Please this is my world. You're asking me to choose between you."

He met her challenging look head on, her faltering composure not shaking him in the slightest it seemed. "So choose." He bit back unapologetically.

"I'll never see my family again... never be able to come home." She argued, trying to break that stern exterior, his mental walls locked in place so she couldn't even be sure what he felt about her stand-off in this moment.

She saw his eye twitch, his resolve flickering for a moment as he crossed to her, his hands rising to cradle her face.

"This is _home_." He insisted, lowering his lips to hers for a moment, his touch feather light against her.

"This is _family_." He added his eyes boring into hers and for one shining moment letting her see into the dark recesses of his mind, letting her feel the love he held for her now, the way it consumed him and his hearts. No longer a hesitant, soft and gentle, barely deserved thing, but something more powerful, something burning so brilliantly that it actually hurt to look at.

Clara let her hand rise to caress his cheek, tracing over his new features, features that she couldn't dislike no matter what she thought of his darker nature, this was her husband, the man she had taken however foolishly into her heart and soul. His love would be like that now too she realised, shaded in a different hue, no longer rainbows and sunlight, more like the break of dawn and the set of dusk, brilliant light dappled with shadows. And she had already chosen.

Her hand found his and she stepped past him, drawing him behind her as she made that final leap, shedding the last remnants of the girl he'd dragged into a Snogbox with the promise of wide eyed wonder and adventure. The TARDIS door sealed behind them and she stared at the new setting, at the rich colours, at the hard lines, the shadows cast by the flickering of the cosmos in the ceiling above them.

For better or worse she was home.


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

Life on board was as awkward as that morning in the kitchen at the Hub had been, as they tried to fall back into a slightly hesitant but familiar domesticity with one another; but she had spent five years getting used to living with the other him, she wondered if it would take as long again?

Nothing however could fix her hesitancy around him, the distance she still felt she needed to keep between them... this man she didn't quite know and trust yet. So she pulled away when he went to touch her, scared of her own mind, her own body and of the alien feelings he ignited in her for this new face. Terrified of the morality she had already bent because of him. She had chosen him, but it seemed that decision was sitting dangerously inside of her, inciting open rebellion in her heart and mind. And so when he brushed his fingers over hers she pulled out of reach, when his eyes bore into hers with barely restrained desires she looked away, when his body heat next to hers made her skin prickle with want she moved. His confusion was evident as was the hurt, but she didn't know what else to do. Her body wanted him desperately, her heart was closely following it, but her head... that hadn't made up its damn mind yet what it wanted.

She had crawled into bed each night alone, blissfully and yet somehow achingly aware of his absence, more from her insistence than his aversion. He had of course feigned interest in fixing something in his beloved machine, his barely existent need to sleep a fine excuse to give her the time she needed. An excuse she appreciated and was surprised he would even think to offer.

Of course even that had to end, he always had been stubborn... so after almost a week of having the nights to herself he had appeared at the end of the bed watching her curiously as she lay there; she'd startled sitting up and pulling the covers with her to stare at him. It had been five days, days in which he hadn't set the TARDIS down anywhere, just drifted, tinkering, reading, getting used to one another's presence again in this setting, working the new face of the Old Girl into its same routines. Her trying to adjust to the idea that this was it now, even if before it had been apparent that she had rarely been compelled to return to Earth, it was the difference between not wanting to and not being able to that was stark and would likely weigh on her for some time. But he was trying, his acerbic tone had softened slightly, they bickered a little she supposed, testing the waters with each other, re-learning old limits, finding new ones, but always the tension, the undercurrent between them when she turned to find his eyes fixed intently on her, assessing... yearning.

"I'm tired." He told her without a hint of fatigue, eyeing the bed they had used to share.

The room had changed of course, gone were the mementos of his former Companions and gone were the red sheets, the only traces of Gallifrey that remained were the occasional gentle rush of a sound like wind through the red grasses and the scent of them that she could detect faintly as she drifted off. Instead it had been replaced by dark sheets, deep mahogany woods, a bed that required a step for her to hop up onto it and a heavy canopy overhead. Her things had a more prominent place in this room, it was much more... joined, a truly shared space. Which was odd considering he hadn't ventured into here with her since they'd come on board; respecting the space she had needed without being told, which was more impressive given as she had been blocking his gentle mental probes since stepping on board. But it did mean that he had quite possibly and quite intentionally stoked a fire inside of her, his gentle touches as they grazed one another in the corridors or over a shared meal, insistent, despite her own equal instance to avoid them.

She had kissed him only once since coming on board, once on the first night when it seemed she had drawn her invisible line in the sand between him and her body as she shut the bedroom door between them. And even then he had teased, his lips pulling away from hers too soon, the look in his eyes promising more, knowing it was more than she would accept. That of course had helped set her mind to her current resistance; she needed to be in control of this, of herself and her own desires, she wouldn't let him manipulate her body, especially as her heart was probably a lost cause, but her body she had decided she could at least keep out of his grip for a while longer.

But she loved him, as much as it pained her, she missed him, missed lying asleep in his arms, missed the touch of him, even if it was a new him. Her heart called to his, and apparently he had come.

She watched him intently from the bed the sheets still wrapped protectively around her, assessing; his cool demeanour betrayed by the heat in his stare. He wanted her badly enough to risk rejection after rejection, if nothing else his determination was impressive. "Oh, well I'm sure the TARDIS could conjure you a bed to sleep in, particularly for the hour or so you'll need... or there's always the hammock right beneath her console." Her tone was light, testing him.

He took a step closer his hands in his pockets, she wondered if that was to stop his fingers from fidgeting and betraying his agitation. "True enough, but this is the only bed with my wife in it." His voice was a low rumble that spoke to something primal in her and she clung to anger instead as her only defence.

"Your wife is still cross with you." She pointed out, but she was unable to resist her lips forming an almost smile at the tender faraway look he was giving the space beside her despite her words.

He stilled, tearing his eyes away from the space to focus on her, his gentle expression so different to the fierceness she was used to, it was almost disarming. "Perhaps my beautiful wife could find it in her generous heart to forgive a man that has spent the better part of a thousand years, longing for nothing more than the simple warmth of her in the bed beside him."

Clara felt her heart falter at the pain she saw reflected in those pale blue eyes of his, the longing becoming a desperate thing that she could almost touch. A thousand years, alone. It had been a little over a week, mere days since she had seen in him on Trenzalore from her persective, since she had made love to a very different man; but they hadn't actually shared a bed, fallen asleep wrapped in one another's arms. A thousand years. All of a sudden the days she had spent on board denying him seemed almost achingly cruel. Her hand went to her heart almost unbidden as he dropped her gaze, clearly it chafed his pride to admit to her how badly he needed this, needed her. Even barely remembering her he had known enough to know he'd wanted her, wanted to sate a thousand years of longing.

"Have I been cruel?" she asked quietly. "A thousand years... you know that I can't imagine it, I can't even imagine a decade... a year." Again the gaping chasm of what they were was between them, an ageless Lord of Time and a human woman; it was a ridiculous notion.

"Love is cruel." He replied evenly, looking up at her once more, "But I daresay I have deserved a little of it."

"You almost broke my planet." She reminded him _'and forced me to fix it with my friends at gunpoint' _she added to herself. He didn't need the reminder of that, and she didn't need to make it anymore real, not if she was going to move past it.

"Ok, perhaps more than a little." He conceded taking another step closer to the bed, his long strong fingers sliding out of his pockets to trace along the sheet at the bottom of the bed, careful to avoid touching her.

"You're an impossible man." Clara admitted with a degree of fondness she found she couldn't help, as her eyes lingered on his fingers as they danced across the sheets; he had always been something of a child, something she felt the urge to protect even whilst she wanted to slap him soundly for being such an idiot at times.

He lifted an index finger to trace across his lips drawing her gaze quite deliberately it seemed, it would have seemed harmless enough a gesture if eyes hadn't been dancing with the clear prospect of her crumbling resistance. "Fitting then given my choice of impossible wife."

Clara sucked in a breath her eyes on the curve of his lips as he all but beckoned; but she was aware that once more she was losing control of this situation, dancing to his tune, letting him manipulate the situation expertly as always. She couldn't let that happen, not now, not with him, if he was getting into this bed it was going to be on her terms and if and when she decided on it; because she might have wanted him, missed him, but it was clearly nothing compared to his own needs and desires. She had the power here; she just needed to take it.

Clara loosened her grip and let the cover fall away, revealing the slip of red satin nightgown she'd chosen, or rather had found in the closet almost expectantly. Her heart hammering and her breathing shallow as she lowered a sultry look at him she crooked her finger to him, indicating the side of the bed. "Come here." She gave him a coy smile which belied her sudden nervousness as he seemed to stare back heatedly at her, those eyes promising again, reminding her all too readily of the one time she had felt just what he could deliver now if he set his mind to it.

But now that she had acquiesced it seemed he was in no hurry, clearly enjoying her rapt attention refusing to dance to her tune as he shrugged out of his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt slowly as he stepped closer to the bed, which was a much more appropriate height for him now she noted. His fingers ran along the edge of his belt, almost tauntingly as he slowly undid the catch, the sound of the metal and leather as it slid through his fingers to fall heavily on the floor made her heart thump faster. It was ridiculous, he was her husband, technically they had slept together hundreds of times... he absolutely shouldn't make her feel like a teenager in front of her first crush.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" she murmured coolly, aware her eyes were growing hooded as he loomed over the end of the bed, his hand went to his zipper, his open shirt only giving her a glance of the flesh she'd yet to run her hands along like this. God she wanted to succumb, to pull him to her by that belt, crawl along the bed on hands and knees and give herself over to him, but she sat resolutely, staring apparently unaffected back at him.

His blue eyes sparked as they held hers clearly not buying it, "Should a husband not attempt to seduce his wife?" his expression whilst not coy was certainly guarded and she realised with a start that he was as hesitant as she was. Apart from their one all too rushed coupling where he had barely known who she was much less who he was, they had never shared anything more than heated kisses. This was new to them both.

His hands went to his waistband and she jerked into alertness, she had to wrench control of this situation out of his hands or it would set the tone of their whole relationship in ways she wasn't certain she could let happen... not with this _him_.

"Let me." She breathed, shifting so that her bare legs hung over the side of the overlarge bed, letting her smile dimple in a way she knew had affected his previous self and hoping the same was still true of this one, blinking long lashes across her softening doe eyes. Beckoning him in.

He approached her smoothly her most seductive 'come to bed' eyes clearly working even if he gave nothing else away as he came to stand between her legs as she inched forward; at this height she couldn't help but notice his hips were almost in line with hers. He inched closer until his bare chest was in touching distance and she could feel the heat emanating from him. A little hesitantly now that he was before her, she let her hands rise to his exposed skin and the smooth stomach muscles underneath her touch tightened as she pressed her palm flat against him. Relief seemed to flood them both as he groaned against such a simple touch and she felt the nerves that had been bubbling over inside of her slip deeper overtaken by curiosity as her hand explored him.

He was stronger like this, she realised what she had already suspected as her finger traced the definition of the muscles, the sharp angles of his hip bones that protruded beneath his loosened trousers. There was a fine salt and pepper dusting of hair from his navel down beneath the waist band that she stroked gently, earning another soft groan from him. With a slight smile she gazed up at him from beneath her lashes, as his hand rose to her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lips. Clara pressed a kiss to the faintly rough skin, before gently touching her tongue to it, eager anticipation driving away hesitancy.

His mouth parted and his eyebrows rose in surprise as she met his darkening gaze and drew his thumb into her mouth, letting her tongue run lightly over the digit, not breaking eye contact with him. This was not something she'd have done with his previous self... explore him like this, they had always been too impatient, or he had. Too caught up in the moment to savour it, but apparently a thousand years really had taught him patience... or something resembling it. Whatever it was she was grateful for it, relearning what it was he liked and what she liked, or could accept from him would take time.

But as his eyes fluttered shut at the sensation of her mouth around his skin and the trace of her fingers up to the faint dusting of hair higher up his chest, curling them around it and tugging lightly enough to make him moan again, she realised it wouldn't be that difficult to figure out.

She let his thumb slip out of her mouth, his eyes shot open with irritation and she ignored him, leaning forward and pushing aside his shirt to press a kiss to his chest, taking what she wanted instead. Her hands drifted around his waist, her fingers against his lower back as she traced upwards feeling the muscles of his back tense with the action. His own hands shifted and she sucked in a breath as he ran them through her hair drawing her closer, until she took a firm nipple in her mouth and sucked hard. He hissed and she pulled back.

"Not fond of that then." She sighed, tracing her thumb over the nipple instead which made his stomach muscles clench wonderfully.

"And here I had hoped for nothing more than to feel your warmth beside me as we slept." His voice held the awe and traces of amusement at what he clearly considered his own magnetism.

"Don't be smug, you might still not get the pleasure." She whispered biting hard against a nipple and causing him to let out a cry his back arching and pressing his chest closer to her tormenting touch despite his protest, but she pushed him back, removing her mouth and smiling coyly up at him, pushing his hands away as they rose to slide across her bare arms, attempting to push the slight straps of her nightdress down as he went.

"This is hardly fair my dear. My hands are itching to explore you just as thoroughly." he murmured all put pouting as he tried again to reach for her.

Clara stopped him with a hand to his chest. "You're the one who's brand new here remember. So _sensitive_." She whispered, reaching up and freeing him of his shirt, letting it fall to the floor around him in a puddle. He seemed speechless to argue with her, which was a first as she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his still clothed hips, drawing him closer, but something calculating lit in those unfathomable eyes of his and his arms shot out, grasping her firmly as she felt a flicker of alarm when he moved quickly avoiding her hands and pulled her head back sharply by her hair, lifting her gaze to his; her lips parted with the surprised sound when his mouth found hers. But his hard stolen kiss softened under her mostly unresponsive lips and he pulled back reluctantly, his hands dropping away from her. Their eyes met, her sudden alarm and his quick aggression lying bare between them as they both paused, dancing on the precipice. A battle of wills and a struggle for dominance; this has always been his domain when it came to sex, she might have had control over everything else but never this. His eyes flickered to her face, to her lips pressed firmly closed as his hand fisting her hair loosened and he let it brush delicately through his fingers, a deep sigh reverberating through him as he dropped her gaze, his head bowing for a fraction.

"As you wish my love." He rasped surrendering it seemed to her touch as he let his hands drop to his sides, the tension bleeding out of him as he gave her the one thing she needed. Control.

Clara hesitated only a moment, taking a steadying breath as she uncurled her legs from around his hips, drawing them underneath her as she knelt up on the bed brushing along his chest as she went and rescuing the straps on her nightgown and so her modesty that he had almost claimed.

"Please." He whispered, his voice breaking softly over the plea and she cocked her head, observing him, his features softening as he raised his head to hers. The lines seemed to recede and his hair shone in the faint light, the sight almost mesmerising her.

"Please what?" she asked leaning in close to his neck and pressing a tentative kiss to the pulse point, feeling the way it hammered beneath her.

"Let it fall." He asked, and she could hear the strain in his voice, feel the tension coiling in him again as she traced her hands along his biceps, down to his wrists, knowing now just how he longed to touch her. Pulling back she reached up fingering the delicate straps of her nightgown teasingly, the flicker of his mind letting her see what he wanted, what he needed as if she didn't already know.

"If I can't touch, at least let me look." He pleaded again and she felt the press of the years he'd spent apart once again between them, the restraint he was showing because she had demanded it. "A thousand years..." he all but choked, and she could feel the strangled sound travel all the way across her skin and dip down between her legs.

Clara left the straps where they were, her hand instead drifting down between the valley of her breasts, teasing as much as he had her not so long ago from the end of the bed, staring up at him from her knelt position, supplicant and yet dominant. "What would you look at Doctor?" she sighed, lifting both hands and gently cupping her own breasts through the satin material, her eyes not leaving his, watching the way his hands seemed to mimic the action at his sides, as his gaze drifted to them. "Do you want to compare me to your paintings... to see if the image you hold in here was good enough?" She lifted one hand away and raised it to brush lightly across his forehead.

He laughed darkly in self depreciation. "Those clumsy hands of his could barely hold a brush, he recreated a poor copy indeed. But even his useless memory couldn't forget a delectable inch of you." His Scottish burr ran through her skin as he rasped the words straight into her ear and they ran like lightening to her centre which seemed to quiver expectantly. "Do you know what it's like to see the image of you clear as day in your mind and know you can never reach out and touch it. Torment... night after night, moment after moment."

"My poor husband," she murmured, letting her hand drift to his cheek, "No wonder you took to whittling." She deliberately leant in letting her covered almost painfully hard nipples brush his chest through the silk and she watched in fascination as his eyes fluttered shut, his lips pressed into a thin line. Perhaps she really was cruel she conceded... or just more angry than she'd admitted.

He drew in a shaky breath and she watched his hands lift for a fraction before he quite deliberately fisted them and lowered them to his sides once more. "If you must tease me love, then please," he opened his eyes onto her searing her with the raw emotion them, "please give me this."

Clara felt her resistance crumble at that look, at the desperate man she was driving to near madness with barely a brush of her skin against his; her eyes remained fixed on his. "Since you asked so nicely." She breathed slowly raising her hands to the straps, flicking her hair behind her bare shoulders and sliding the straps down her arms, letting the nightdress fall to a pool of satin around her and exposing her to his hungry gaze. It seemed improbable that a man she had shared a bed with for the better part of four years could look at her like that. Like she was something to be devoured and yet treasured at the same time. A thousand years indeed.

"So beautiful." He hummed, his lips parting as he took in long deep breaths, those clever eyes of his scanning every inch of her with unconcealed desire that lifted the hairs on her arms and caused wetness to pool between her legs. It was a heady feeling, just as it had always been, but somehow more so now, to see this older, unfathomably darker version of this man reduced to the same state as the irrepressible man-child had been at just the mere sight of her.

Perhaps she smirked, but he clearly knew where her mind was at. "Narcissist." He rasped, tauntingly at her.

Clara smirked. "Egomaniac." She taunted right back.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." He snapped leaning forward and putting his body within brushing distance of hers, impatient it seemed for her promised touch.

The flare of aggression again from him was jarring, as she knelt naked and exposed before him, a flash of defiance she had to root out. "Do you love me still Doctor?" She lifted her fingers the imperceptible distance between them and traced the outline of his hearts, before lowering her mouth and doing the same with her lips. "A thousand years of war since our wedding vows... and still not a flicker of doubt?" she gazed up at him, more cautious now as she probed the question she would never have needed to ask his predecessor, the one he was compelling her to ask.

He let out a sound close to a howl of agony and she felt his fingers slide around her throat tightly as he drew her head back, lowering his own until their lips brushed and she glared up at him, refusing to bend to be cowed by him. "Are you trying to push me into breaking my promise?" he hissed, "Because I will ravish you on this bed here and now and I will not show even a sliver of restraint, if you continue to be so cruel."

Clara felt his fingers tighten and she felt the air in her lungs grow short as she stared up into his wide furious and terrified eyes. Seeing for the first time beyond the mask to the frightened broken man who had emerged from Trenzalore's horrors and not backing down at his bark, despite her fallible human instincts telling her to do just that.

"Tell me." She demanded, past his grasp, lifting her fingers to his lips and tracing the fine bow of his thinner lips, showing him that strength wasn't always harsh and that despite his hold... this situation was still very much hers.

His expression wavered the anger giving way, "Not a flicker." He bit out, and his grasp loosened a fraction, his fingers tracing down her throat more delicately. "Never." The word seemed to break on his lips.

Clara felt tears prick her eyes, as she strained to meet his lips. "Say it, say the words." She insisted, not even sure why she needed to hear them herself, but she did, needed to see him say it, to let it settle over her from this version.

"I love you." He told her his lips pressed against her cheek. "I love you." He repeated in Gallifreyan and she felt the smile split her lips. "Impossibly so." He added quietly and she turned her head catching his mouth with hers, kissing him with quiet intensity.

"Thank you." She whispered as they shared a breath before she pushed him away and back upright, noticing the thundering sound of his hearts within her mind and the heat radiating from him now.

"Is that all you have to say?" he growled, trying and failing not to make her aware of his own need to hear the same words fall from her lips.

"I gave up my world for you." She reminded him, "Do you need more?" she half teased.

"Yes." He bit out, seemingly angry with the notion as she let her fingers trace the outline of his waistband again, her hand brushing lightly against the tented material and recalling the wondrous way he'd fit within her, purpose built this time around.

She didn't meet his eyes, feeling the blazing heat of his gaze, the insistence in her mind that she answer before she blocked it out. "How about I show you?" She worried her bottom lip as she lowered the zipper, hesitant for a moment as she searched for strength to give him this, to give herself this, to accept him once more as her husband, as her lover. Her hands grasped either side of the material and without further thought to raise her many doubts she shoved them down swiftly over his hips until they hit his ankles. His boxers were protesting just as wonderfully she noted; her attention fixed as she reached out and brushed him through the material, sinking down lower on her knees on the bed to give her a better position.

His hands tightened to fists once more at his sides and she glanced up at him, unsurprised to find his eyes open on her. "Put them behind your back." She told him and he quirked an eyebrow at her in surprise, but did as she requested.

Clara hesitated, this had always been his territory, his need to dominate, but that was the old him, this him was already so dominant in everything else, she wanted this, wanted to take the power from him, even if it was only like this. This was what she _needed_; for the barest of moments she let that need breach her mental walls, let him feel it if he chose to listen.

Sliding from the bed and reaching the floor she brushed across his stomach with her fingers, tracing around him and letting a nail dance along his spine as she noted the way his hands were clasped together tightly above his boxers. Clara stepped up close behind him, so that he could feel the heat of her skin, the faintest brush of her hair without giving him the contact she knew he wanted and reached around his slim waist, her fingers sliding into the waistband of his boxers and sliding them smoothly down his legs until they joined his trousers in a pile about his ankles. He shifted as if to kick them free and she stilled his legs with a touch to his smooth thighs. "No. Leave them." She whispered, pressing a kiss to his spine which made him shiver as she let her right hand trace slowly up from his thigh to grasp a small firm cheek exploring. He gasped and she smirked, releasing the flesh.

She stalked away from him, feeling his eyes boring into her back as she moved around to the front of the bed and retrieved the leather belt he'd let fall there, she glanced up at him as she turned letting him see the item in her hands. His eyes widened a fraction and she locked her mind away firmly, let him wonder at her intent, as she slowly stalked back towards him; letting the leather run through her hands, and for the first time his gaze fell from her to the offending item.

Clara slipped behind him again and he tensed a fraction as she stroked the curve of the leather across the back of his legs.

"Do you intend to spank me with that my dear?" he chuckled lightly, but the hitch to his breath belied the way he felt about that and she filed it away for later with a smirk. This was so far beyond territory she had ever broached with the last him that it truly felt brand new and more than a little exhilarating for it. Her heartbeat was hammering in her chest and she was almost hyperaware of his skin inches from her own, of the feel of the leather. But from the way she could hear his own heartbeat speeding up, the way his body seemed to arch towards her fleeting touch she knew he was every bit as thrilled by this new side of her. The inexplicable urge to make him gasp rose, to inflict even a sliver of the torment he seemed capable of putting her body through; to make him pay for dying... for changing.

"You do deserve it." She admitted, toying with him, as she brushed the leather over his other ass cheek. "You have been an insufferable git remember." She reminded him taking a handful of his ass and squeezing hard enough to leave the slight indent of her fingernails against the firm smooth skin. "You did forget me... and the TARDIS." She added, running the cool metal buckle up his spine. "Fucked a near complete stranger on the centre console. I could have been anyone." She accused, letting the palm of her hand connect solidly with his ass and drawing a sound from him she'd never heard before in her life that went straight to her already wet centre. The sensation seemed to ignite between the both of them in startled pleasure, that she had done it, that he clearly enjoyed it. She watched the shudder rippled all along his back muscles, the way his ass clenched tightly in anticipation of another.

"Not just anyone." He bit out, his voice sounding strangled and she didn't need to wonder if he was as aroused as she was by this unexpected turn of events.

"Scared me half to death when you collapsed..." she hissed slapping the other cheek with her palm again, which was stinging slightly from the contact, but she couldn't stop, not when it was making them both quiver. "And again when you rasped those awful truths in my ear in the bowls of this very ship." She added with another crack and her palm stung all the more. "Then there was the kitchen." Another crack of her palm and his cheeks were starting to redden. "When you threatened my world, had them point guns at me... and throw me in a cell." Ok so she had gone there again, and her palm stung all the more so that she slipped the belt into it instead. He tensed as if sensing her intent. "Dying on me!" she cried out, unable to keep the pain in that sentence out of her voice as she delivered the belt to crack across his tender flesh this time which had him shouting out her name and she closed her eyes at the yearning he managed to put into it. But she darted back from him suddenly alert as he spun on her, his eyes were wide and as near to snarling as she imagined eyes could be but his chest was heaving, his colour more flushed than she had ever seen it.

"I may break my promise." He growled out in warning when he had taken a steadying breath and she quirked an eyebrow down to his hands which had migrated to fists at his side with his clear struggle to hold them there. Her eyes dropped to his erection which was unrestrained now and looked almost as fierce as the rest of him, the veins on it all but pulsing. She never had got to examine that particular part of his anatomy last time, just felt it's clear differences to the one she remembered so well. She wasn't disappointed now.

"So I see age comes with its perks?" she smirked at him, lifting her finger to her mouth and biting down on it in the way she knew had tormented his previous self, even if she wasn't naked.

"Clara." He all but hissed, taking a warning step towards her, his hands still fisted, but clearly the intention to grab her clear on his face.

"My rules." She whispered, stepping back from him coyly, letting her free hand trace the length of her body in the way she knew he longed to.

"I can't..." he pleaded and she laughed with near delight at the obvious strain as his cock twitched almost at his command.

"Let me help with that." She made a promise of her own as she stepped closer, "Turn around, face the bed." She instructed. "I never gave you permission to move." She warned him herself. His eyebrow rose in that inscrutable way of his and his jaw twitched as he deliberately shut his mouth but he slowly, his every fibre seeming to resist the idea, turned back around and faced the bed, his head stubbornly up glaring into the room beyond. Clara approached him slowly, making him wait as she slid her hands gently to his wrists, enjoying the way he almost flinched at the sudden contact, as she drew them back to the centre of his back. "Hold them." She added quietly, not needing to ask twice as his hands grasped each other tightly at her urging.

Retreiving the belt from where she had dropped it in her startled haste to put distance between them, she let it slip through her fingers smoothly before lacing it around his wrists, sliding it in and out, over and under, pulling it taught and seeing his shoulders tense with the strain as she forced them together until she could lock the buckle. Clara tried not to think too hard on the implications of what she was doing... of daring to restrain the last Time-Lord; of binding her husband. Instead she just admired the view of it, the slow burning desire it let loose inside of her as she stroked across the leather. Clara gave it an experimental tug, arching his back slightly but it seemed to hold. The power she felt seeing him straining was simply exquisite, it felt like she had finally taken a modicum of control back, even if it was perhaps an illusion; but it was something he had finally recognised she needed and didn't contest her on as he had everything else. _Hers_.

Of course he had to try and ruin the moment she acknowledged as he let out a puff of exasperated air, "Shall I add sadist to narcissist?" perhaps he'd intended his voice to be light but by the time he was done with the words they were little more than a low growl as his head turned back to see her, his eyes darker than she'd ever seen them.

"Only if we can add masochist to yours." She threatened and he shut his mouth, not taking his eyes from her though she noted. _Good boy_.

"So you have me trussed up like a prized bull. Now what my wicked wife?" he pressed and she hesitated fractionally, the word _wife_ from him still jarred and she wondered if it would ever feel right, much like his declaration of love had the first time, she hoped it would simply take time before she could even _want_ it to sink in.

She stalked around to the front of him, reaching up to press a finger to his lips. "Not a word." She ordered and he stilled, silence never had been something he did especially well, his eyebrow quirk seemed to ask if she was serious. Her other hand trailed down his front slowly and she grasped his erection firmly, keeping her finger pressed to his lips insistently. The sensation of it, the hard silkiness of the flesh in her palm made them both gasp and he rocked slightly on his toes, like this she wondered if she could lead him anywhere. But then she was equally magnetised as she bit down hard on her own lip in an attempt to stop herself from merely pulling him into her already soaked centre.

"Silence is golden Doctor remember, you remained silent for a thousand years... I'm sure you can manage the next few minutes." His expression was molten as she ran her thumb over the head of his slightly weeping cock. In part because she wanted to and in part because she wasn't so sure he could obey her simple instruction she pushed her finger past his firm lips and into his mouth. She closed her eyes briefly delighting in the feel of his tongue as he ran it along her digit, until his teeth clamped down lightly, trapping her as he sucked hard.

Clara looked away fascinated to see _him_ again as his hips thrust lightly into her hand, telling her what he needed even if he couldn't speak. He was wider she noted with satisfaction feeling the unfamiliar distance to her fingers as she gripped him, but she had felt that the first time he'd thrust into her; a different shape and colour now, but if there was a difference in length she couldn't tell. But it was the same smooth firmness as her hand lowered to his balls as she slipped another finger into his mouth letting his clever tongue twin around them as she slowly slid them in and out of his mouth, matching the rhythmic way she took a handful of his balls. They tightened deliciously in her grip and his erection seemed to strain towards her, the veins pulsing along it again. She slid her fingers from his mouth and traced the wet digits along the length of him taking him with that hand and applying pressure as she stroked him. His head fell back and she laughed as he tried to plant his feet more firmly, only to remain trapped by his ankles still within his discarded trousers.

Clara left him like that, her hand still gripping him firmly as she slid around behind him, reaching around his waist to maintain her hold as she pressed her naked breasts against the curve of his spine, her stomach against his ass, ignoring the escape of air from him like a hiss, it wasn't after all a vocalisation. Like this their height difference was so apparent to her and it only turned her on more as she slid her free hand down his ass cheeks and dipped between his legs until she was cupping his balls once more.

"Don't come." She insisted and she felt him twitch in her fingers, perhaps for a human man it was cruel, but he had his vaunted Time-Lord control, she'd damn well make him exercise it. She stepped in between his legs, nudging them as far apart with her own as she could as she stroked and caressed him slowly, learning what made his breath hitch and what made his cock pulse with pressure as he struggled against the obvious conclusion. Her mouth traced gentle kisses down across his spine, taking in the taste and texture of this new skin until she couldn't resist it and let her teeth bite down at the sensitive skin at the bottom of his spine. He didn't make a sound and but she watched fascinated as his hands pulled hard against the leather at his wrists, testing the limit of the stitching. His legs trembled and his cock pulsed beneath and she stilled her movements, sensing the warning sign as clearly as he did as she withdrew her hand, her lips pressing a final trail of kisses to his back as the first traces of moisture began to gleam across his skin with the effort.

Clara slid back around to the front of him, eyeing him darkly as she hopped back up onto the bed, sitting on the edge, naked and not feeling in the slightest bit exposed. Perhaps she was as wicked as he claimed because new, dirty thoughts heated her skin as she stared at the straining man in front of her. She wondered if she would have been too embarrassed, to hesitant to do this with the _other_ him, to pliant and willing to let his bumbling side sink beneath so that he could be the dominant one in that moment, so he could give her what she needed. But _this_ him was constantly pushing her boundaries, forcing her to settle around a new morality, he never gave her an inch so she had decided to simply take a mile. It was exciting and maddening all at once. She bit down hard on her lower lip tasting blood and looked him dead in the eye as she parted her legs, he held her gaze for an admirably long time before he drank in the sight of her. He made as if to move forwards and she held a hand out to his chest warningly, but he at least kept his silence.

"Not yet." She taunted, knowing what this restraint was doing to him as she felt the frustration of his mind push sharply against her mental barriers. "You wanted to look remember." She lowered her hand between her legs, keeping her other on his chest and feeling the way his muscles tightened in response to the path of her fingers as she brushed her own sex with them. She watched his face as he watched her hand, her fingers gently brushing her clit in a way that no matter how much she tried would ever be as satisfying as his touch... even if all she had to go on was the single memory of his clever fingers. Not that they had ever been clumsy when it mattered, but they were more tapered now, dextrous and strong in ways that had left her keening. She slipped her own finger inside herself and he let out a strangled sound that drowned out her soft moan; his mouth parting as his chest seemed to heave, but his lips remained pressed firmly shut together as if his life depended on it.

"I'm in control." She reminded him needlessly, panting a little as she trusted him not to move as she dropped her hand from his stomach, her legs winding around his hips and pulling him closer with them, bringing him within thrusting distance if he chose of her heat, pushing him one last time. "Your _mine_." She bit out in warning, her eyes on his as her now free hand joined the other as she set about tormenting herself. It was the most wanton thing she had ever done, never in her wildest dreams had she considered doing this, husband or not with his last self. He'd never have had the self control for one, never have surrendered control to her when it came to sex. For all his softer nature, he had never been especially gentle with her in bed. She wasn't sure she trusted this version of him enough to let him be that way with her again. Not yet.

His cock was weeping slowly mere inches from her she realised as it brushed her inner thigh every now and again with her movements and her own breathing hitched at the thought. It caused her to circle faster, sliding her finger in and out and focusing on the way it would feel if it was him, every now and again she let her hand snake free to grasp him, her slick fingers coating him, just enough to torment, before she returned to her task, her chest rising and falling heavily in time with his as he watched her enraptured until she finally came quietly against herself.

Her eyes shut for a second and the sound of him falling to his knees with a thump startled them open, her legs still wrapped firmly around him sliding until they were practically around his chest. She watched the way a bead of sweat wound its way from his neck down that same chest and she leant forward, their heads almost in line now as she latched onto it, sucking the moisture into her mouth and tasting the saltiness of it with a soft sound of contentment. She could feel his pleas in her mind as her barriers weakened with the aftershocks of her own pleasure. His eyes were on her fingers and she felt the flutter of arousal at the thought that he was so desperate to taste and touch her, that he would want _that_. With a hesitance he didn't appreciate she held the fingers that had been inside of her in front of his lips. He craned his head, straining his neck until he could take them into his hungry mouth. Clara closed her eyes at the way he devoured the lingering taste of her there, the look of ecstasy on his face had her pulse thrumming again. Arousing her in ways she had simply never felt before.

"Oh God." She moaned and she pulled her fingers out of his grasp, his bereft look replaced with one of delight as she lifted her legs fractionally until they were over his shoulders, leaning back on her elbows and urging him closer still as he shuffled on his knees until his chest was pressed against the side of the bed.

"Did you imagine _this_ Doctor, on those long cold nights... did you remember how warm I was here." She brushed her aching centre with her fingers once more, gleefully tormenting him.

If looks could kill she wondered if she'd be six feet under, she smiled darkly back at him. "Go on then." She pushed her hips towards him as eager for him there as he was.

He didn't need further encouragement finally free to touch her, even if it wasn't with his hands and she let out a cry as his mouth closed around her already sensitised clit. "Doctor!" she cried out clutching the sheets beside her as he tormented her with every flick of his tongue and touch of his teeth, his tongue slid into her and she arched her hips beneath him as he proved to her that her hands could never substitute for this. She might have the illusion of control but it shattered now as he drew an orgasm from her that had her screaming and clutching at his head desperately, pushing him deeper utterly certain that had he demanded her to stop in that moment, to hold back her own release, she couldn't have. She was putty in his mouth, let alone his hands which remained firmly bound behind him. Control she realised, like most things, was probably an illusion, but it was certainly fun.

As she lay there panting his lips travelled across her inner thighs, biting gently, tracing his tongue all the way up to her naval taking liberties with his new found freedom it seemed, until she was inching closer to him, her legs finding new purchase and wrapping around his torso as she merely tried to remember how to breathe again.

"Did you come?" she asked quietly, opening her eyes onto his hooded ones, seeing the strain on his face and getting her answer. She smiled wolfishly at him and slid back away from him, patting the sheets. "On the bed Doctor." She insisted and watched as he forced himself to his feet gracefully, his trousers long since kicked away from his feet and no longer restricting his movement as he stalked to the bed and hopped up onto it, rolling onto his back and pinning his own hands beneath him as he straightened his long lithe legs out with a grimace that was likely due to the painful looking erection he was sporting. Clara couldn't help but admire him as she crept on her knees along the length of him, stroking her hands from the arch of his feet along his calves and up to his thighs. The look on his face told her not to test him much further and she mostly ignored it as she threw a leg over him, straddling him firmly and brushing her sex against his.

"Could you do this without a sound too husband?" she tried the word out, her hands trailing across his chest as she shifted her hips up a fraction until the head of his desperately weeping cock brushed her clit.

He let out a strangled breath his eyes pressed firmly shut. "My name," she whispered and he opened his eyes onto her. "That's all you can say, the only sound you can make, and if you move, if you so much as buck your hips..." She warned and he fought not to arch, his stomach muscles straining as she slid further down over him, trying to keep to yet another of her demands.

"CLARA!" he let out the strangled cry as she slid down taking him fully into her and then stilled, the sensation of it almost too much for her, let alone for him.

"Clara, Clara, Clara." He whispered her name like a desperate litany and she heard the plea in it clearly, her eyes were on his as she moved, lifting her hips off his to let him slide along her quivering walls deliciously. He was taut beneath her and she rocked her hips as she moved, letting her clit brush against his pelvis and draw out the friction she craved. There was no doubt in her mind now as she thrust against him, that he knew who she was this time... knew what it meant that she was giving herself to him like this and taking this from him.

"I love you." She promised him finally answering his needless question as she pressed a kiss to his lips as she felt herself pulse around him, leaving her breathless, "you can come." She pressed the words against his temple and she squeezed her eyes shut as he did just that, the flood of him into her thoughts that she couldn't shut out like a crashing wave and she screamed at the onslaught. Clutching onto his shoulders and feeling her body collapse against him as she tried to hold onto some semblance of self as his pleasure raced along her every pitiful human neurone she possessed; alighting areas of her brain that simply weren't equipped to feel it. Until she was left trembling and sobbing against him in exquisite agony as he filled her with pulse after pulse of his seed, a thousand pent up years worth.

She lay quivering atop him, feeling the trembling of his own limbs beneath her and the twitching of his cock buried deep within her with satisfaction. His hands came around her back and held her tightly to him, she glanced at the remnants of the broken leather belt on the bed beside him, as his fingers traced through her hair.

"_My_ Clara." He sighed and she let him roll them, until she was curled up beside him, his hands soothing her skin with his touch as he slid gently from her.

"Was there a doubt?" she sighed back, letting her hand curl around his chest possessively, feeling the wild thuds of his hearts beating as they struggled to calm. He didn't answer and she didn't press, closing her eyes content to let this be the bridge between them; for this moment to be theirs for as long as it could last.


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

**Warning strong sexual themes (M/R rating reminder on this fic).**

**Authors Note: Ok so the last Chapter whilst viewed a lot doesn't seem to have inspired many reviews or comments which was a little disheartening as I was quite happy with that Chapter but I guess it's not to everyone's tastes. Many thanks to those who did review as it saved me from thoughts of abandoning this (something I loathe to do). As it is I've had a bit of a rethink as to where I'm taking this fic and after this Chapter it will begin to follow Series 8 as an AU piece much as Time of the Doctor was, with this darker version of Capaldi's Doctor and their somewhat damaged relationship and seeing how that unfolds and subtly or not so subtly changes the episodes we've seen. Please let me know what you think in a PM or reviews as it really does help with the inspiration; thanks again to you all for following this story.  
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><p>The Doctor had hoped that the distance she had placed between them would simply evaporate with that night together, but he quickly came to realise that was little more than wishful thinking on his part. Clara remained as quietly unsure and distant with him as before, outside of the bedroom at least; however inside it seemed like she was willing to secede certain terms... and then some. He honestly couldn't recall being so thoroughly stripped of his manhood and yet being so utterly assured of it as she had eventually left him. <em>Wicked wife<em> indeed.

But he was still unsure of what her intentions that day had been, it had been obvious she'd wanted to take back some of the control she clearly felt he had stolen from her by forcing her to leave behind her world, but he suspected it was also in part to alleviate the control he was sure he had over her body and so in her clear opinion, the control it gave him over their relationship. This had been her unsubtle way of asserting herself on this new him, because as she had realised he was no longer the willing little puppy, content to lap up the scraps of her affection.

Although he had to admit this was all purely speculation, he had no way of knowing for certain given the mental walls she had erected to keep him out; ironic as he had let his fall. But there was one thing he could at least be sure of, she still wanted him, possibly even more than she had before. He just wasn't sure how well her mind had accepted that fact, because if her body was already there then her heart seemed likely well on its way as well.

But it was a difficult situation for him in their waking hours, to feel the gaping chasm of distance she could put between them after being so thoroughly wrapped around him the nights before was beyond painful and he honestly wondered how much longer she could expect him to endure. Already he found his mind drifting to fantasy, if the attempt was to leash the physical yearning he had the ability to induce in her during the day so that she could deal with him with a clear head, then it seemed to be having the opposite effect on him. He was positively driven to distraction by her mere presence in the room and he was certain the little wench knew it.

But he was learning patience, it had certainly been a steep learning curve in restraint for him that first night she had allowed him back into their bed, terrifying and exhilarating all at once; to give his wife the control she craved over him. To put aside his need for dominance, the possessive nature he had always embraced during intimacy and to trust himself to her touch. But despite the consequences and his current distraction and her ever present coolness towards him, he considered that night a break through, it had after all been more than simply sex between them, they had become lovers again.

Whilst Clara was the only one it seemed allowed to initiate anything between them, there were some nights now that she would let him make love to her and not the other way around; her trust in him clearly growing. It was a heady thing, to see the way she smiled at him from beneath her hooded gaze as her eyes danced and gleamed with their secrets. To kiss her mouth and watch as it parted to cry out his name finally seeing only him in that moment, not the phantom of who he was.

Until the morning of course and reality would settle over her and remind her he was not the man she thought she wanted... not always.

So he fell back on that little used skill of his, patience; choosing instead to revel in what she would give him. In the way she drifted asleep content in his arms night after night, their joined pleasure thrumming between them and ignore whatever distance the morning might bring. It was a bliss he had dreamt of on those cold nights in Trenzalore, and something he had feared she would never trust him with again from the moment he had awoken in this new face, the ghosts of the monster he might become, the monster he possibly still was heavy between them. But she was his impossible girl and he was certain that soon enough the rest of it would fall into place for them. _Patience._

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><p>His fingers grazed her skin, considering it a victory every inch she let him claim the closer night came to day. His lips traced patterns across her neck, her ear, her collarbone, listening to the sounds of her sleeping breaths, undisturbed by him. Then came the moment she would wake, he could feel the tension he had worked so hard to bleed out of her the night before creeping in to her frame, the way her eyes refused to open onto his, but instead turned to the wall of their shared room. Her hands would slide over his and for a moment just a moment, he held the hope she would pull him closer, but they always gently pushed his away, sliding her body out of his grasp as easily as she slid out of their bed. Her soft supple naked skin taunting him as she sat on the edge of the bed, her hair falling like a curtain around her face hiding it from him. He had once claimed that it was <em>obsession<em> that ailed his darker half, the one that could never come to be; watching as she stood, his eyes following the curve of her back, down to her perfect round little ass, to those legs that had so recently wrapped around him... he wondered if he was as free of it as he hoped, or if it might consume him yet.

"Clara." He whispered the broken sound of her name still the only word she would permit him to use with her when they shared a bed. She hesitated.

"I give you my nights." She murmured quietly knowing what he wanted, _needed_, as she slipped on her silken robe; her tone at least held an apology to it now, one he wasn't certain he deserved as she easily interpreted his plea. The answer enraged him and made his hearts twist painfully in his chest; that she was reducing their relationship to this... to nothing more, however incredible it was, however whole it made him feel as he sunk into her embrace, he needed more. He wanted all the moments, he needed _her_.

"You are mine." He bit out, unable to keep the bark from his tone as he threw the covers from himself, stalking from the bed and closing his arms firmly around her biceps, pressing his front against her silk covered back. She had promised him that, promised both his faces that much.

"That's the point." She replied quietly, turning her head to look up at him but her mind was a wall he couldn't scale and he failed to decipher the look she was giving him, "but at night, _you_ are mine."

Her words slid through him, exciting, arousing and utterly infuriating him just as they had the first time she uttered them whilst he stood naked, bound and powerless before her. She had chosen to come with him; he had thought that had meant she'd chosen him. It seemed it was more complicated than that. "You can't pick and choose the parts of me you like and simply discard the rest!" He growled, his fingers tightening around her arms his anger flaring now, always so close to the surface.

"Why not?" she sighed, sounding weary whether of him or the situation he had placed her in he wasn't sure. She turned and he let her as her hand rose to his cheek, tracing the feint outline of the stubble there that he had yet to banish. "You're lucky I still like any of you at all."

The words cut him... although he wasn't certain that had been her intention, the sadness in her eyes spoke volumes in that moment and he longed to be the foppish idiot that could banish that look, if only fleetingly.

"I love you." She promised, "But this is the only way I know how to be with you right now." Strength left him and she slipped from his bruising grasp, dismissing him it seemed.

He bowed his head, naked and exposed again only this time in the daylight she left him utterly bereft. "Clara." He pleaded, the word more for him than her, but he felt her pause as a soft hand brushed his back, forcing him to draw in a shaky breath at the perfection in her touch against him.

"Go be the Doctor... Doctor, and we'll see about giving you the mornings too."

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><p>And so they had ventured out as they always had, because he was the Doctor and this was what he did... or at least what he remembered doing. He was more cautious perhaps than usual, not wanting to impinge on her already shaken ideas of him. Which was incidentally how they ended up at a masquerade ball for the Royal family of Hadregargovic Under the Sky. In his defence it had been interesting perhaps for a whole five minutes, a murder mystery for the ages that had scandalised a Star System. One he'd possibly accidentally solved. At least it seemed that way as it was half way through the ball and no one had been horribly murdered, he sighed in irritation. Apparently the gentleman who'd had the invitation he'd needed to get them in given as his psychic paper had utterly failed to impress the Royal Guard at the front gates, had in some way played a role in the murder... if not perpetrated it himself. Shame really then that the most efficient way he'd found to disable him had been a pinch to a nerve cluster that left him incapacitated and memory less in an alley.<p>

He drummed his fingers on the tabletop, eyeing the guests over his glass as Clara sat merely watching him, her eyes on occasion drifting to the dance floor where couples were waltzing in a way that reeked of old Earth, even if the instruments producing the sounds was utterly alien. Yet another gentleman in an overly ruffled shirt and garish mask approached their table and bent in swift polite introduction to the woman on his right. She had made quick polite work of all other takers and he was confident this chap would meet the same fate.

"You should be dancing, beauty like yours deserves to be admired." The nonce practically purred as he held his hand out to Clara and the Doctor rolled his eyes, biting back the quip in which he pointed out that he couldn't even see her beneath the elegant mask... before he realised it didn't matter, she was clearly beautiful mask or no. He admired the man's audacity, right until she took his hand and shot the Doctor a look behind her dark mask that dared him to try and stop her. He put his glass down before he snapped the stem as the buffoon pulled her into his arms too close for propriety and began to dance her in the way she'd clearly been admiring all night. She'd even learnt the steps from careful observation he noted with distaste.

The Doctor waited one dance... the idiot deserved one he supposed given as he'd had the gall to ask the most beautiful woman in the room to dance. He could hardly fault the man, nor could he blame him; whilst he had very much wanted his wife beside him, there was little to show the outside world at present that they were together, let alone had once been madly in love. Particularly as until this moment he'd shown no inclination towards taking her in his arms and stepping out onto the floor. Apparently patience in all things was not in fact golden and he ground his teeth together in irritation that he consistently failed to read her. It used to be so easy.

He caught her on a twirl, deftly removing the larger mans arms from her and giving him a narrow look which lost none of its power behind his mask and had him pausing and giving that low bow again, if a little curt to show actual respect. The Doctor merely sneered at him and wrapped his arm around Clara's waist, pulling her sharply against him and focusing his gaze on the dance floor as he moved them expertly around.

She was giving him a knowing look, "So... he dances?" she murmured after a few minutes in which he hadn't crushed her feet or stumbled into another couple, or managed to upset an entire highly decorated table full of guests and their grand goblets.

The Doctor returned her look with one of his own, hearing the faint tinge of melancholy in her voice as she clearly imagined her bumbling buffoon of a husband in his bowtie and giraffe legs attempting to dance with her. The one time at their wedding not withstanding as he'd mostly swayed and she'd led.

"Custom built remember." He sighed, splaying his fingers across her bare back and enjoying the sensation of her skin beneath as they moved, inching closer to her offered warmth and gliding his fingers over hers in their joined hands. They moved gently across the floor, flowing from one dance to the other as he held her close, letting his calm, admiring state of mind brush hers. It seemed to be doing the trick because the tension was bleeding out of her with every turn he gave them, with every touch that wasn't meant to inflame. This could be more than just sex between them, more than _need_ and _want_. It could be adoration, love, comfort, companionship, laughter, joy. He was certain of it and he wanted it again. Her head dropped to his chest and he instinctively lowered his chin to the top of it, pressing a kiss to the hair.

"Are we expecting a dastardly murder to spoil this moment?" she asked him quietly, her voice muffled in his shirt but he heard her none the less.

"Why, are you looking for an excuse to go find your original waltzing partner?" she snorted and he smiled fondly, he always had liked making her laugh, he supposed that was half way there. "Or does the thought of death and dismemberment amidst this finery excite you?" he was teasing and he was thankful that when she looked up at him her lips were curved upwards.

"Just wanted to make sure I was ready, wouldn't want to be lulled into a false sense of security with all this romanticism, or get this dress ruined." She replied lightly, splaying her hand across his chest and listening he knew to the echoing sound of his hearts. "We should dance more often." She offered and he dropped a kiss to her temple as her eyes fluttered closed briefly.

"I'm sure we could fit it into our busy schedule." He conceded noticing that they were now at the edge of the dance floor which had in fact all but emptied apart from those couples still trying to impress.

Her hand touched his cheek and he startled, his eyes widening as she drew him down to her lips; she kissed him softly with none of their usual fervour, just wanting to share the moment with him. "Take me home." She breathed against his lips and he nodded, letting her lace her fingers with his and gently pull him along beside her.

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><p>It was of course his own doing, because of his utter inability to sit still, to simply rest within the quiet of his own mind, not that it was ever quiet which was half of his problem. But she'd demanded he try and be 'the Doctor' which meant he had to go out, had to attract trouble in that way of his. Whatever it was, it would always be his downfall he realised as his eyes narrowed on the unconscious form of her floating in the tube of preservative fluid.<p>

He hadn't meant to be so careless; to let his ego get so far away for him, but he just had to make his wild guesses, he loathed being wrong in public... but he had been, so wrong and Clara had paid the price. It was with immense satisfaction that he used the laser screwdriver to disintegrate the foolish Collector that had decided Clara was a piece of history that had to be preserved at all costs. It had taken him a while to revive her, his panicked brain struggling with the slight weight of her cold and limp in his arms, but he had managed it eventually, holding her close as she spluttered back to life.

"I'm sorry." He told her quietly, holding her chin and forcing the apology deep into her, wanting her to know he would never again make this mistake.

"It's fine. I'm fine." She managed, coughing up what remained of the fluid from her lungs. "Just get me out of here." She added, giving away how 'un-fine' she was as she curled her arms around his neck, letting her eyes close against his chest, relying on him for comfort, something she only ever allowed when she was in the throes of passion now. Her eyes fell on the pile of ash that had once been a man and for once she didn't comment, and he grimaced. The old him might have found away to avoid killing the bastard. Possibly, after all he hadn't always been a saint. But it seemed even she wasn't so sure this 'Collector' hadn't deserved it if her silence was anything to go by.

He'd held her gently that night, his fingers brushing her skin and trying to calm his mind and his worries as she ran her hand through his hair absentmindedly, unable it seemed to find sleep herself. So of course he felt compelled to break her rule... unable to hold his tongue as he pressed his lips to her stomach. "I'm not all that different from him." He whispered and she stilled her movements, her fingers gliding to a stop to rest over his scalp.

"Who?" she asked quietly and he let his mind answer her, let her see the dark desires and instincts that clouded his judgement. She was quiet for some time, once again her mind closed off to him, forcing him to take gladly only what she would allow, what she chose to share. "It's not the same." She replied after clearly giving the notion some thought, her fingers stroking down his face to raise his chin and force his eyes to her.

"He wanted to keep you forever... locked away, treasured and out of harm." He murmured, dropping her eyes and focusing instead on the soft expanse of her skin beneath him, his fingertips tracing patterns across her collarbone, to the small birthmark just beneath her left shoulder, the only blemish he'd ever been able to find and all the more precious for it. In his mind he was truly struggling to see how the Collectors desires for her were any different to his own... and certainly not to the self he'd fought so hard against becoming. The image of the cell door in the TARDIS, of the carnage within flickered in his mind's eye and straight into hers, they both flinched.

"Stop." She hushed him, her finger to his lips. "The Collector did it so he could take me out to admire when he chose, I was just an ornament, a possession." Clara replied, her tone gentle for once with him as he lay wrapped around her, refusing to let him travel the darker path even in his mind.

"I see no difference." He bit back, loathing himself in that moment.

She sighed and he heard the exasperation in it, perhaps even fondness if he was foolish enough to think that way. "You want to keep me out of harm's way to protect me, to keep me safe, because you love me."

He didn't meet her eyes, certain that whilst that was part of it, there were other, darker more possessive undertones to his reasons.

"It's not selfish." She chastised him and he closed the door in his mind surprised how easily she'd pulled that idea loose. "Love is possessive sometimes." He felt her mental barriers drop for a moment and he sucked in a surprised breath at the intensity of emotion she felt about this, about him. "I want you always and the thought of sharing you with someone, of losing you..." she trailed off. "Sometimes I want to lock you away from the Universe too." Her smile was everything he adored in her, kind and impossibly strong, before it quirked up into something coy "Even if it's just to protect you from yourself." She leant forward and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips.

"Besides we both know you want to do more than just admire me." Her tone dropped a fraction to a seductive purr and he felt himself stir again at just the thought that she might be teasing him, pushing aside her uncertainties because she wanted him to feel how much she loved him, despite himself. Before her mind locked down again as she drew him closer with just that look in her eye. Of course there was also the possibility that she was trying to distract him from actually having a deeper conversation with her and both of them confronting their issues. Fortunately he wanted the distraction.

He raised himself over her, his hands taking hers and intertwining their fingers as he pressed them to the bedspread beside her head; for once in control in their bed; but even as he gazed down at her, stealing a soft kiss, he was aware that whatever power he had in this moment she was giving him. "I want something." He whispered, knowing he had no right to want anything of her, not really, not after what she had given for him always.

Her eyebrow quirked, faintly amused he imagined, but she couldn't read his mind, not in that moment, he made sure of it. "How unlike you." She mocked and he had the grace to look away, to know his own selfish desires dominated so much of their life.

"Tell me." She offered quietly, her fingers squeezing his, urging him on, still his wife despite it all it seemed, willing to put his wants and needs first, even if he didn't deserve it.

"I want a first... between us." He elaborated and she frowned, uncertain of his meaning. He sighed wearily, holding her soft brown eyes in his gaze. "I'm the last of so many of me... 13 faces. One of whom got to have you first, to love you, to kiss you, to marry you." He elaborated. "There is nothing left for me to claim."

Clara's expression remained quietly neutral, a soft hitch of her breath perhaps the only thing that gave away her expectance as she waited for something he simply didn't dare speak, not now with this fragile trust between them. "Ask me... _husband_." She whispered, forcing him to find his courage, but there was a sharpness to her tone that reminded him that she was nowhere near settled with him and nowhere near past looking for the differences.

He lowered his mouth to hers, their lips close enough to brush, he wanted her trust... like this, and there was a way of course she could offer it, at least in their bed which was the only way she would give herself to him now. "There is only one part of you he never claimed, one part of you that you could give me that wasn't _his_ first." Their breaths intermingled as he listened to the sound of her heartbeat increasing in his mind, could feel the swell of heat across her skin and the moisture on her lips begging him to close the distance as he kissed her.

"And should I trust you _my_ Doctor?" she rasped, breaking the kiss and staring hard into his features, assessing him quietly and perhaps finding him wanting as she struck to the core of the issue, the tension that still lingered between them.

He pressed their joined hands harder into the bed, pushing his hips against hers and letting her feel what it was she could do to him, how completely he was hers like this. "Like this, in this bed... you can trust your husband." He promised, because asking her to trust the Doctor, to trust _him_ beyond these sheets was a step he could never force her to take; not yet, he'd not nearly earned it, he wondered if he ever would.

She didn't ask foolish questions like why he needed to claim any part of her at all; she knew well enough, had married him knowing he needed to claim her in front of the Universe. For all that she was human, she knew his Time-Lord hearts; knew enough to force him to give it up to be with her like this. Her lips parted into a smile that was mostly ironic he thought. "I think that might just be the most romantic proposition for _that_ I've ever gotten." But her eyes were dark and hooded, staring and assessing, judging him; but she hadn't dismissed him, or slapped him; which was endlessly surprising.

He felt his lips quirk in quiet satisfaction that his body, the pleasure he could bring her was once again working as a bridge between them; but then he had always dared where other men had retreated, fear was his constant, it had long since stopped being the thing that gave him pause. And as far as he knew, it had never given her pause... _'so brave'_ that was what his last self had thought of her, idealistic perhaps. Perhaps that was the truth of it, his previous self so full of optimism and boundless enthusiasm, he had never been able to see the weaknesses of the woman beneath him. But that was his gift now... and his curse, to see the weaknesses in others, to know instinctively how to manipulate those to his own ends. He didn't want to manipulate the woman in his arms, but she had left him little alternative, refusing to accept anything from him but a physical connection. And Gods whilst it was indescribable, perfection even, he craved more... the instinct to take more to twist circumstances to his own ends to have her offering him more. He wanted his wife back he supposed, but as he was now because even if he could change, he refused to go back to the man he had been, no matter how badly she wanted it. Despite what she'd insisted he knew in his hearts that was the definition of 'selfish'.

Her fingers tightened in his grip and her eyes scanned the furrowed features of his face as she reached out to his mind, looking for the surface thoughts, for the intent. Her let her see it, let her see his honest desire to connect with her, to have her trust him when they lay like this at least. "My dear Doctor." She breathed, shifting beneath him fractionally until her legs wound around his waist; in control as always like this. But there was still a bitterness to her words, to her mind that he brushed away, tenderness and exasperation warring equally within her for supremacy. He wondered if at times she hated him, hated that she had bound herself to him unwittingly, to a man that was so wholly unable to be what she needed.

Her hips tightened around him and her eyes narrowed darkly as she picked up on his darker line of thoughts. "Shut up and kiss me." She instructed, her tone brooking no argument as she glared up at him silencing his self-pity for the time being, but there was a quirk to her lips that gave him hope as he bent his head, capturing her mouth with his own as he felt the mental walls around her mind go back up, clearly she didn't want to hear any more of it.

She kissed him back and he released her hands, letting them twine around him and revelling in the feel of her as she slid her short nails across his back, more gently than she had been of late with him as her legs parted and he slid easily into her waiting heat. It was so easy with them, so simple when they were like this he mused as he rocked his hips languidly into her, building her pleasure and holding back his own. His hand slid between them and he touched her purposefully, enjoying every breathless sound she made as her head rolled back and her lips parted teasingly. In this form, this version of him had all but lost his affinity for human beings and the attraction to them, if anything he found them all slightly repellent. As if his time spent living amongst them for a thousand years on Trenzalore had robbed or perhaps cured him of their mystery, their wonder.

But Clara? _His_ Clara? He lowered his lips to the column of her throat, the very taste of her exploding behind his eyes and sending a shudder through his body. She was and always would be the most exquisite thing he had dared set eyes on, the Universe in all its boundless uncompromising beauty paled next to her. If he was truly a madman in a box, then she was the cause of his affliction. She had replaced the starlight in his heart with the gold flecked hues of her impossible brown eyes, the heat of a thousand suns with the gentle warmth of her skin against his.

His fingers moist with her desires slid further back between her legs as he kept up his torturously slow speed, until he brushed against the part of her he had yet to claim. Her breath hitched in an almost strangled sound as he pressed the digit into her feeling the tight space give for a moment before she trembled violently all around him, coming hard. He slid out of her and rolled them quickly until she was spooned against his body, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his front moulded to the soft contours of her back as he pressed his all but dripping cock between her pert round ass cheeks, feeling her tense for a fraction despite her limbless state. But he waited, hesitant to take this further without a sign at least, he knew her well enough to know that this would be a first for her too after all. Her hand found his and intertwined their fingers as she held it tightly around her chest, pulling him closer.

"This will hurt." He whispered in apology, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck.

She nodded, a soft sigh escaping her as she rubbed her leg gently against his calf, her hand rising up to touch his cheek tenderly. "Go on then..." she breathed, her head turning until she could see his face her expression open and inviting, "hurt me."

Her soft plea in a voice already doused in sex would have reduced any man to a quivering wreck he decided, not just him, as his right hand shook slightly as he placed it over her hip. With a sharp inhale of breath, quite unable to decide what he had done in this regeneration to deserve her, knowing it had little to do with _this _him, he pushed aware even as he did it that as always like this, she had complete control of him and she'd needed no leather bindings this time.

The soft cry she made stilled him and he felt her fingers grip his tightly as her entire body tensed against him. He rasped his adoration and desire in Gallifreyan against her skin, soothing and trying to relax her as he trailed his right hand up and down her side, "we'll go slowly." He assured her, feeling her breathing soften a fraction as he remained still, barely the head of himself pushing into her; but he couldn't stop, _wouldn't_ not now. His hand trailed forward and between her legs, his clever fingers gently finding her already sensitive nub and brushing lightly as he pushed once more with his hips and she cried out again, her fingers clinging to his. They moved agonisingly slowly together, her eyes pressed tightly shut and her mouth issuing soft pants and mewls of intermingled pain and pleasure. Trusting him with this... with _her._

For his part his entire body was trembling with the desperate need to thrust wildly and with abandon, her tightness in this new arena was something to behold and her delicious contractions as she fought to simultaneously push him out and pull him deeper were a new form of torture. His fingers rose to her head, brushing through her hair and coming to rest over her temple as he pressed his cheek against hers, he hadn't tried to enter her mind when they lay together like this since that first, frantic moment in the console room after he'd regenerated. Letting her be the one to initiate any mental contact much as she initiated any contact, but he needed it now... _she_ needed it as she finally gave her body over to him completely. It was time to work on her mind as well.

"Open." He rasped, his meaning as laced with intent as he could make it as he let his mind push against hers, before lowering his fingers back to the apex of her thighs and pushing two questing digits inside of her, as his hips finally slid home. Her mind parted and she instantly let out a gasp at the sensations he shared with her, at the feel of _her_ like this. He captured her mouth, filling her completely as he pressed his tongue into her, tasting and teasing and pushing. Perhaps controlling her like this was beyond him... but he could possess every inch of her it seemed.

The Doctor moved slowly, he didn't want to damage her but with the shared pleasure coursing through them he was finding it harder and harder to keep his movements restrained. In that moment he also struggled to keep the utter feeling of possession of her to himself, but there was no hiding it like this as it suffused her in that moment as it did him. To his surprise she didn't recoil, even if she didn't entirely embrace the notion; but her vanity, her newfound need to dominate him like this revelled in the power she had over him and it only increased his overwhelming desire for her. Maybe she was just damaged enough to accept his weakness too?

"Gods!" He murmured, releasing her mouth and staring at her gloriously half lidded eyes as she stared back at him and he dropped his mouth to her neck unable to bear the acceptance she was giving him.

Her hands rose to the back of his head, fingers clutching at him "It's ok." She managed to gasp out and he didn't need to wonder what she was referring to, he knew it was to all of this, to them like this, to the way he needed this from her. Her head fell back onto his shoulder, her eyes closing and he rubbed her furiously in time with his increasing thrusts, lowering his mouth to her throat and biting down hard enough to break the skin.

"Doctor!" Her voice crying out his name had the power to ground him like nothing else whilst somehow letting him soar, as he focused on the sensation of her body rocking gently against his, "Doc...tor." she gasped coming once more for him as he absorbed the sensation of the way _her_ pleasure raced through him, tightening his balls and curling his toes and he smiled against her skin.

"My Clara." He managed breathlessly as he shut his eyes tightly letting her tip him over the edge as his body shuddered and he grasped at her trying to draw her somehow into him as he came violently within her.

Their breaths came together and their heartbeats slowed as he continued to hold her close, unwilling to allow an inch between them.

"That was..." she tried and failed to give it words.

He pressed a kiss to her slightly damp temple. "It was." He murmured back as she sighed gently content, as he very carefully withdrew himself from her. He felt the overwhelming urge to thank her, but there was no need, as he wrapped his arms around her whilst she held him there curling back into him. He obliged holding her and basking in the contentment she felt, listening to the soft flutter of her mind as she slipped into sleep, feeling very much _his_ and secure in that despite all her other doubts, and that was ok for the time being at least.

When he was certain she was asleep, he slipped from the warmth of her body and their bed, brushing his hand across her cheek as he took in the simple pleasure of seeing her so at peace because of him. But he withdrew his hand before it began to curl in tension, his eyes dropping to his bloodstained cock. His eyes lingering at the evidence of the damage he could do because of his own selfish needs.

He closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of her, and trying not to notice that guilt was not pressing on him as he knew it probably should, instead there was only anger. She was too fragile and she'd willingly let him hurt her... he was still the monster.

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><p>That had been the moment he realised, staring down at his own naked monstrous visage and her utterly serene one, that he had set his mind, if it wasn't already set before. It didn't take the escapade on the market world of Gharr to tell him what he already knew as the blade sliced her flesh, just a scratch against her golden skin, but enough to make him see red. He didn't disintegrate this one, instead he used that other nifty little function the Master had installed on the screwdriver and once used on him to great effect. He aged the thug, aged him until he was nothing but dust, slowly and painfully letting the bastard know that he was going to die for laying so much as a finger, let alone a blade on his wife.<p>

Clara of course had been horrified with him, her hand going to the screwdriver and ripping it from him, storing it in her jacket pocket as the sounds of alarms began to blare for the death of one of its precious citizens. She grasped his hand and ran, pulling him along with her and not stopping until they had slammed the TARDIS doors shut.

"God damn it!" she hissed, taking the screwdriver out of her pocket and stalking to the centre console before he could react, the TARDIS seemed to know exactly what she was planning as she dropped the item into an already open receptacle. "Hide this." She instructed as his Old Girl sucked it into her depths. "Or better yet, destroy it!" She insisted glaring back at him and daring him to contradict.

He ran his hands across his face in exasperation, before smelling the faint trace of her blood which once again overtook all reasoned thought, he stalked forward taking her chin and tracing his finger across the gash on her face his heart thumping with fury that hadn't abated with that bastards corpse.

"It's fine. It's not even deep." Clara murmured, pulling away and examining the slice herself in the TARDIS scanner. "I'll get something from the medbay to fix it right up." She added, putting distance between them and he let her go, gripping onto the centre console for dear life as he felt the tremor racing along his body. He wanted to scream, to rage, to obliterate the world they'd just stepped foot on, to go back and murder that arrogant little prick at every point along his time-line, then to go back along his ancestors and take them out too. Hardly rational thought he knew that, but it didn't seem to matter.

The TARDIS scanner displayed for him what Clara had confirmed that the wound was superficial, it wouldn't scar even if it were to heal naturally, let alone with the healing gel he knew his wife would apply. But it didn't ease him any and he snarled shoving the scanner away rejecting his ships attempt to pacify him.

"She's too fragile." He hissed at the TARDIS, feeling the Old Girls gentle brush of sympathy and shrugging it off. He didn't want to be appeased, didn't want pity, he wanted to _fix_ it. To fix her.


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Many thanks to everyone for their reviews and supportive words in response to my last note. It is greatly appreciated and encouraging to know that people really are enjoying this fic so much, especially as it seems like it might be a long one at this point, please continue to let me know your thoughts good and bad :)**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER SEVENTEEN<strong>

The opportunity presented itself as they stepped onto the paradise world of Halithropia IV and he hesitantly watched as she explored further into the wild jungle landscape ahead of him. But his clever eyes tracked what she could not see, his hearts stopped as he considered the risk... the danger and he balanced it against the risk he took every time she stepped out of the TARDIS, every day that passed and her fragile human body continued to tick off days... hours, minutes. The echo of the time slipping through his fingers was like a drum beat pounding in his head in time with her heart and he began to sympathise with the Master's madness.

So he paused, his faster reflexes catching the dart that fired at him from the exquisitely beautiful and utterly deadly Rellulia flower that seemed to have infested this part of the jungle. She was ahead of him, he could reach her, stop it he realised, as he watched another flower turn it's head tracking her picking up on her scent; he watched as the stem tightened and his eyes narrowed, he let his breathing level out and pressed his lips together forcefully saying nothing. The stem pulsed and it lets loose it's toxic barb. It flew with unerring accuracy hitting her straight between her bare shoulder blades of the simple tank top she wore, embedding and digging in and he flinched, feeling his hearts falter right along with the echo of hers in his mind as its venom began pumping relentlessly into her oh so human system. _So fragile._

It took a matter of seconds and it was done, it had all changed... He caught her as she fell, not willing to let even a bruise further add to the tally of the damage he had done here. Sweeping her up into his arms he masked his own scent so as not to attract more, as he flew back through the jungle, hearing her laboured breathing already as he all but became invisible to the remaining flowers. There was no risk to her, not anymore, no need to mask her scent the venom was already leaking out through her pores, its work done. The TARDIS doors flew open admitting him as the alarms blared, the Old Girl detecting the condition of its human occupant with clear panic. He paid her no heed, heading straight for the medbay which presented itself at the first turning as he laid Clara's prone form on the bed, stroking through her sweat soaked brow, as her eyes fluttered, consciousness a battle every inch as fierce as the one going on within her cells right now. His hands fumbled for the injection of adrenalin and he slammed it through her breastbone, halting the poisons progression for a moment and sending her shooting awake with a startled gasp as she instinctively reached for him.

"Doctor." She managed, the word a mere tremble from her lips as she collapsed back against the bed, clutching at his hands against the agonising pain he knows is ripping through her body now that he has forced it to wake. Even the plant hadn't been that cruel, letting her mind slip into blissful unconsciousness rather than face what he was forcing her to.

"You've been poisoned by the sting of the Rellulia flower. It is highly infectious... and deadly." He rattled out the information to her quickly, seeing her eyes widen as she began to pant, her chest heaving as her single heart struggled to cope. "Think of it as the beubonic plague of the plant world, only faster acting. Its toxin forces it's spores into your body, breaking apart your cells, until you eventually... pop." He swallowed back bile at the thought. "Releasing the spores into the atmosphere and spreading the flower."

"Fix it." She gasped, clutching onto him tightly and he was unable to suppress the sudden flash of pride he felt about the certainty she held in that sentence, her faith in him. It made what he was about to tell her all that more painful and he winced.

"There is no known cure." He grasped her face tightly in his hands, wanting to let her know that he was right here with her.

Clara's eyes widened and he saw tears leak out which pinched his hearts, he should feel guilty, a part of him he was certain did, but he _had_ to do this. "What about unknown...?"

He smiled thinly. That was his girl... always trusting him to have a plan.

"There is something." He admits, knowing there is no going back, there hadn't been from the moment he had let that dart fly.

"A spoonful of sugar?" she rasps hopefully, clutching onto him like the lifeline he is. He turns to the medbay computer screens, opening up the panel he has concealed the container within and pulls it out with a flourish as he holds it in her eye-line, the unmistakeable swirl of regeneration energy holding her attention despite the pain she must be in.

"You have maybe ten minutes." He tells her quietly. "Time enough to try this."

"Your regeneration energy." She asks clearly recognising it, "And you just so happen to have some stored away for a rainy day?" her eyes latch onto his and he obligingly takes her hand which she squeezes tightly her whole body trembling in his grip; and he knows if she wasn't in such pain she'd have called him on this. But her brain was already starting to shut down again, compartmentalising what it needed to get her through the next ten minutes of utter torture.

"New cycle," he waved her comment away, "there was a lot of it going around, it seemed prudent to store it for such a day."

"And it's pouring now?" she manages before letting out a cry as her body bucked giving into a wave of agony as it passed over her and he can do nothing but squeeze her hand more tightly, placing the canister down hastily and letting his hand brush across her forehead, reaching out with his mind and trying to offer her a few minutes of relief from the pain as he diverts it to less overloaded and sensitised neurones, taking on some himself with a grimace.

"Like a bitch." He mutters as he successfully pulls her through the haze for the moment at least and she tries to laugh, half at his comment and half in blessed relief. But the toxin is potent, in moments it seems she is all but choking on the sound and her eyes flutter closed.

"Stay with me." He insists, brushing his hand across her forehead again and pushing the command into her subconscious her eyes open, it is cruel, possibly one of the most cruel things he has ever done, to force her to be present to _feel_ every moment of her agonising death, but he needs to explain. "Clara my love, this cure may be worse than the disease, like chemotherapy. Destroying everything in its path, both you and the poison." He explains.

"How much of me?" she hesitates despite the dire situation and he can't give her false hope, it wasn't fair, he was certain if she got through this she would be furious, no need to add more fuel to that particular fire.

"I was taking poetic licence". He admitted debating about whether to tell her the whole truth, but there isn't time to convince her of the lie, if she wants to live, she has to choose this way, the only way. "You will cease to be human." He tells her softly, feeling her hand fall away from his. "If that is you define humanity as your cellular makeup alone."

"Oh." Is all she manages as she turns her head away from him, her chest struggling to rise and fall before his very eyes, her forehead creased with lines as tears leak out of her eyes, running in rivulets that he imagines should drown him. He knows it is the pain, the toxin, but a snide part of him reminds him it is also his words... what he is doing to her, forcing on her.

"It is that, or cease to be at all." He reminds her needlessly he can feel the turmoil in her mind, the dancing questions and the panic to stay alive whatever the cost. Survival instinct, it is what he must rely on, and if nothing else she is gloriously human enough still to have that in spades. Ironic it would be that very human stubbornness to cling to life that would be its own undoing.

"What will it do?" she grits her teeth, and clutches the side of the bed curling into herself and he reaches out to touch her back, trying to comfort and knowing it is futile.

"The energy will pervade every cell." He reached into a draw and pulled out a needle, "Nanogenes, you remember, fabulous at repairing... pretty good at rewriting too." He held it in front of her eyes, she'd seen them before but he didn't trust her memory right now and he was trying to keep her focus. Unfortunately he noticed the sheen to her eyes; she had to remain conscious so he tapped her cheek lightly, "Hey, focus." He warned her lightly and she gave a hiss of breath in response, her eyes open ahead and unblinking "I've programmed them to help your cells learn how to accept and modulate the regeneration energy," her nearly blank eyes found his and took on life again for a moment with a flash of accusation as they seemed to ask _'when?'_ it was he'd had the forethought to programme these; but as she didn't say it, he saw no reason to offer the information. "This isn't regeneration as you know it," he qualified, "that is a Time Lord trait and more than simple energy, but you would 'renew'." He lifted her hand to kiss her knuckles "Every cell in your body would be in a constant state of pending renewal and rebirth."

Her mouth opens and she draws in several ragged breaths, her whole body shaking with the effort and it feels like his hearts are in a vice as she manages to get the words out. "I'd heal." She acknowledges closing her eyes briefly at just the effort from those two simple words; but it is a limited understanding he senses from her and he wonders if she is too addled to make this decision.

Underneath it all he finds a shred of decency, all centred around his love for this impossible woman, and fear that if he doesn't at least try to explain she will abandon him if she survives this. "Clara my love, this isn't temporary, you wouldn't just heal from this, you'd heal from everything every threat to your cells survival." She nods, clearly she'd gotten that, but her eyes remain closed as her breathing grew more shallow, he leant in until his nose all but brushed hers, wanting to share his own breath, force air into her failing lungs and knowing it was a fools hope. "Clara listen to me, _please _just listen, the energy contained in this canister is extensive, enough to sustain you for a long time." He owed her so much more than just the truth, but right now it was all he had.

Her eyes cracked open at the plea he knew she could hear and despite her agony she couldn't leave unanswered. "T...imme Lo.o...rd?" she stammered out the words he of course recognised as his own species and he felt the flesh of fear, the resistance coming from her at the notion. He shook his head vehemently as her eyes squeezed shut again and he pressed a kiss to each furiously closed eye. He knew what she was asking and for once he didn't have to lie to reassure her.

"No my sweet Clara, you would never be that, even if it were possible I would never inflict it on you." But she was already retreating into her own mind, synapses coming to a shuddering halt as her body was ravaged by the toxin, she wasn't of sound mind right now, but there was no other choice. If he must he would make this choice for her. "But you won't be human anymore." He rasped and he quite clearly saw her entire body flinch in response, her fingers found the strength to cut into his skin, her glassy eyes opened to his.

"No. Don..'t I, wan...t." She rasped failing to finish but her meaning was clear enough as she turned her head away from him her eyes squeezing shut against the pain and her felt her heartbeat faltering catastrophically in his mind.

Anger and panic flashed through him and he gripped her shoulders tightly shaking her back into alertness. "No? NO!" he roared, "Now is not the time to be stubborn Clara!" He all but snarled, pulling her upright into his arms and cradling her head as it flopped forward, all strength finally leaving her as her body succumbed. But her eyes were open again and although glazed, her focus was on his even if words and thought had long since failed her. "You'd really leave me all alone?" he knew it was low, to play the guilt card, but he wasn't above using anything in that moment, and he desperately wanted her to agree, because even if she didn't he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

Fresh tears sprung from her eyes and traced a pattern across her cheeks as he held her firmly, his intent burned clearly into his features. "Don't make me do this." He begged. "I can't lose you." He hoped she understood both meanings behind that statement, because he wasn't fool enough to think there somewhat strained relationship would survive intact if he went against her wishes. However ridiculous they were.

But she didn't seem able to speak, her throat was likely closing, breath would fail soon and he needed her breathing to do this. "Do you trust me my darling girl?" he offered, knowing that her answer wouldn't be emphatic and she hesitated, every millisecond of it cut his hearts. "Do you trust me to save you?" He tried one last time.

Her eyes fluttered shut and he laid her back on the bed, hovering over her, desperate for even a syllable of agreement from either her mouth or her mind, it didn't matter much. "Yes." She breathed finally even as her mind screamed its uncertainty and it was all he needed. He turned grasping the needle and pushed it into her skin, sending the nanogenes coursing through her system before he reached for the canister. He ripped open the seal without preamble and held it over her chest, the opening close to her mouth.

"Breath Clara, just breathe and it will all be over soon. You're going to be fine." He promised, his hand at her brow gently stroking her hair from her forehead as the golden tendrils chased towards the living receptacle she offered, stealing into her mouth and nose with her flickering breaths, pouring in and filling her. She bucked violently and he fought to keep her steady on the bed, to hold her from hurting herself as she thrashed, her voice returning only to break into a deafening scream that tore loose from her body before she fell limp; a soft golden hue lighting her skin. He ripped his hands from her body at the very last moment he can, because in this moment he can do nothing but watch as she fights it, not daring to touch her lest the energy leap to him as her body struggled to accept it.

It takes longer than he imagined it would, her screams subsiding into whimpers and he longs to reach out and hold her, to make this right, but he can't, not yet or so the scanner tells him the energy was still working its way through her, the nanogenes playing the role of Pied Piper leading it relentlessly onwards into every fragile human cell already straining with toxin.

The TARDIS was less than pleased, he could feel her disapproval sliding over and clawing at him; her senses attuned and recording every flicker and millimeter of damage happening to Clara, every change he was inflicting on her still painfully fragile human body.

"She'll thank me." He whispered, burying his head in his hands, because there is no point lying to the telepathic machine, she knows his dark heart, knows the reason he risked this planet at all. The lights flashed and the machine hummed dangerously back at him as he felt the unmistakable push of her cold shoulder as she severed her connection to him for the time being, unable it seemed to stand being in his head any longer. He couldn't blame the Old Girl, he couldn't stand it either.

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><p>The lights were dim when she opened her eyes and there was a gentle hum coming from the bed which seemed almost deliberately soothing as Clara tried to regain her bearings. Her breathing was shallow and she felt... <em>fine<em>. She shouldn't feel fine, she knew that, remembered that much. No one went through agony like that and came out of it 'fine'.

Her eyes found the crumpled form of the Doctor slumped in an arm chair at the back of the room, pressed against the wall like he couldn't bear to be closer, but was still unwilling to leave. His breathing was deep and even, his eyes closed, asleep. Hesitantly Clara sat up, examining herself with a brief pat down, not sure what she was looking for but not liking the fact that everything seemed the same. Her last memories before she'd thankfully slipped into unconsciousness had been of pain, actually that was too quaint a word for the liquid agony that had seared her. Even the time she'd spent inside the Doctor's timeline falling through the vortex hadn't felt her like this had, oh it had burned and pulled and torn her apart, but somehow this had been worse.

Her legs swung over the bed and she stared at her hands, expecting to see the golden glow of regeneration energy as she had seen on him that fateful day she'd lost the man she'd truly married; only nothing happened, it was just skin and it all felt the same. Clara reached for the medical scanner, pulling it to her and not even needing to programme it, the TARDIS seemed to know exactly what she needed, clearly she'd been watching over her as the Doctor slumbered.

"You won't find anything." His voice startled her and Clara looked up, surprised to find him standing ramrod straight inches from the bed. This version of him seemed to be able to move like a cat, whereas his last self had been more of a giraffe... a clumsy one. It was unsettling as she stared at him.

She hesitated, her voice felt raw and speaking only confirmed it. "Am I...?" she trailed off not even sure what to ask.

"You're fine." He replied his expression looking drawn and the lines on his face seemed more pronounced as he ran a hand through his silver mop of hair, she wondered how long she'd been here, he looked exhausted which was saying something for a man that could get by on a few hours of sleep every few weeks.

"How long has it been?" she asked, avoiding the elephant in the room, happy in her ignorance for a little longer as her brain threatened to leap into overdrive.

He sighed, taking a cautious step towards her, his hand reached out and she almost flinched, schooling the impulse before either he or her body recognised it; his fingers brushed the skin of her face, examining her quietly before he settled for simply stroking her hair. "Too long." Before gently leaning in to drop an achingly familiar kiss to her forehead.

Clara dropped her head, forcing back tears at the melancholy that gesture was still able to bring and at the implications of everything she knew he wasn't saying; he was shaken to his core, that much was clear, enough to forget himself for a moment it seemed. Her eyes lifted when she felt confident enough to meet his again without them giving her away, "I remember... well I remember a lot of pain," she admitted and his lips were a thin grimace, but he didn't interrupt "I remember the regeneration energy," hardly an adequate word that 'remember', it had coursed into her and she'd felt like she had caught fire, like she was a rocket being propelled into the stratosphere by the unfathomable power of it. Spontaneous combustion she thought would have been kinder... she wondered what it had formed of her out of the ashes.

"It changed me." She knew the truth of it, had felt the intensity of his need for her to understand that part of it at least as she caught his suddenly retreating hands in hers, forcing him to acknowledge this moment, and her words that weren't really a question, but clearly they had compelled him to answer.

"You were dying." He replied, which was hardly an answer at all, and yet it was everything he needed to tell her.

Clara tugged at his hands again, forcing him to look at her. "Why don't I feel any different?" she asked the feeling of _'fine' _from before hadn't abated and it left her unsettled. She wasn't _fine_.

He shrugged. "What did you expect to feel?" his answer seemed pointed, accusatory almost.

"Different." She bit back, unsurprised at how hostile he had turned almost at a glance, and whether he knew it or not, just how guilt stricken he looked. Clearly this was eating him up, probably no doubt warring with his inner nature to celebrate the ability that he once again beat back death, to make the Universe bend to his will... the Time Lord Victorious.

"Ah." He murmured. "Like perhaps we all go around aware of our differences, perhaps a Slitheen feels how un-Sontaran he is?" he was laughing at her she realised, mocking at the very least, she felt a pudding brain comment coming on. He dropped her hands and turned away from her reaching out for one of the draws and withdrawing a scalpel. It was a sign of trust she thought, particularly given the recent circumstances, that she didn't immediately flinch back away from him as he held it out to her. "May I?" he held his hand out to her.

Clara eyed the invitation warily before extending her hand to him which he immediately grasped and turned palm up keeping his eyes fixed on her as he deftly lowered the blade and sliced deeply across the skin. She hissed, trying to pull her hand back and not being able to as his grip tightened and the pain radiated out. "Watch." He intoned and she had to fight to tear her eyes from his face, to take in the sight of her blooded skin; the golden tendrils were hardly noticeable she realised in fascination, barely a glimmer, but the effect they had was clear as she watched the skin effortlessly knit back together. He smiled quietly, satisfied as he ran his thumb over the palm smearing the blood away to reveal flawless skin.

"Perfect." He murmured and she withdrew her hand quickly from him, holding it herself and rubbing her finger over the nonexistent wound, the phantom sting of the pain it had felt slower to retreat.

He was anxious, she could feel the tension radiating from him as he tried to remain still, waiting for her response. Clara honestly didn't know what to think, let alone feel. A moment ago from her perspective she had been dying... and God had it felt like it; perhaps it hadn't been all that brave but in those agonising moments she'd felt willing to do anything to make it stop; because she hadn't been willing to go, not yet, she'd wanted to live. Her head raised to his pinning him with her gaze, he didn't quite meet it and she had to ask, had to voice the question buzzing inside her brain from the snatches of memories she had outside of the pain.

"You wanted it to sting me." The accusation fell heavy between them and she watched his lip twitch, just a fraction but she knew that tick well enough. Knew the repressed snarl he gave when he was caught out. She was certain he had set this up, everything had been too ready, if not the sting then something. He'd wanted something, anything, to give him a reason to put an end to her humanity, to the threat of it stealing her away from him. She wasn't an idiot she knew how protective he'd been how fixated on every bump and injury she'd picked up recently. But the idea was much like the sting had been, spreading like poison within her and she hastily pushed it away, willing to believe the excuse she knew he was going to throw at her, desperate to believe anything but what she suspected.

"No." He admitted and she prepares herself to yell, "I just didn't stop it." His honesty in that moment utterly deflates her, all the righteous indignation and anger literally bleeding out of her with the impact of his words... the inevitability of them. She wasn't even surprised by it and there was something terribly depressing in that realisation.

"You've remade me." She added quietly, wondering if she'd known before; if she'd really experienced the truth of this version of him when she'd made her vows if she wouldn't have hesitated longer. She didn't bother to ask if it was because he thought she hadn't been good enough before, because clearly she hadn't, _mortal_ was never going to be enough, never had been.

"I saved you." He barked back unapologetically as he reached for her and she let him grasp her arms tightly, trying to overpower her mentally and physically with his insistence that she understand that at least; she would have been more offended but he still bore the exhaustion of his time spent waiting for her to wake which took some of the bite from it. Instead Clara merely glared defiantly up at him, feeling warm tears splash down her face and suddenly she wasn't sure if she was crying for herself or for him at this point.

"You didn't give me a choice." She tries one more time, wanting even a flicker of a conscience to present itself across his features, some measure of regret for the way he had done it.

"You had a choice, you chose." He snapped his grip tightening as if he wants so shake his truth into her; she shakes her head sadly, as if in her pain filled state she had been of sound mind to chose anything other than relief?

The words flew from her, "I chose to _live_. Not whatever the hell this is!" she shoved his hands free of her, not wanting to feel his touch in that moment as fury swiped at her in response to his steadily tripping heartbeats, "And the only reason I had to make a choice at all was because you put me in that position!" She stabbed at his chest with her finger, her anger rebuilding with his utter lack of empathy; she wanted to throttle him she realised feeling her fingers itching to wipe the indignant look off his face.

"You're alive enough to hate me, be grateful." He hissed, his nose almost hitting hers with his current intensity, in that moment she wondered if she did hate him, just a little, it would be so easy too. But even this was a lie, he was pushing, he wanted her to hate him right now, wanted her to vent and get it out of her system; because he clearly wasn't going to feel guilty about this, not yet.

"You manipulative bastard." She hissed growing wise to him and he opened his mouth to respond; fortunately the TARDIS chose that moment to shake violently, throwing them both off their feet. She slammed hard into a wall, wincing and instantly feeling relief from the receding pain of it with a groan of unease. But the TARDIS didn't stop. "What the hell is it?" she yelled, seeing him struggling to his feet and lurching at a panel in the wall.

"Oh." He muttered quietly at the display and shot her a nervous look.

"Don't 'oh' me!" she snapped. "Out with it?"

"We might have drifted..." he shot her a dark look and without pausing darted past her out into the TARDIS, probably heading for the console room.

Clara stumbled to her feet finding them remarkably stable as she chased after him, "Drifted where... _when?_" she called after him almost in afterthought as she processed just how bad this could be and pushing aside their current issues and her spiralling unease with what he'd most likely let happen to her... or planned. '_God please don't let him have planned this, let me be wrong'_. A violent pitch almost propelled her into a wall and she well and truly focussed on surviving the next few minutes as the entire TARDIS seemed to be shaking and groaning, her lights whirring as Clara fought to keep her balance. By the time she'd reached the console room he was tearing around the centre like a man possessed, slamming switches and battling the small fire that seemed to have broken out.

"Fire!" he bellowed at her, as if she was supposed to do something about that with her bear hands. As if on cue the fire dampners exploded from the walls, filling the entire console with a white cloud of vapour which she struggled through to the console, gripping it tightly for dear life.

"How bad?" she barked above the din, grasping a couple of controls and trying to assist in stabilising whatever the hell this was.

He gave her a sharp somewhat worried but mostly excited look which only irritated her. "We might have drifted through the time vortex whilst I was asleep, the Old Girl and I might have had a disagreement and disconnected our telepathic interface." Her raised and expectant eyebrow said it all about that little insight and he opened his mouth to speak when what was unmistakabely a roar rattled the TARDIS and her bones; they both gripped onto the console for dear life as they seemed to be shaken soundly. It stopped and she stared wide eyed at the door listening to the unmistakeable sounds of something large and pounding with a growing sense of horror. So of course he stood casually, flaring out his jacket as if he had this all under control. "Also we might have been in Earth's Jurassic period."

Clara balked. "Fix it." She hissed, "Before something eats us." She managed with only a small quiver in her voice. She'd very recently almost died, she wasn't keen to repeat the experience.

He frowned. "I think it might be a bit late for that... besides I said _been_, past tense, I managed to hop us forward a few millennia." He murmured a little smugly now which hardly suited the situation as the console let out a bang and something else exploded into flames, making them both recoil and almost bump into each other in their haste to back away from the fire control sprays. Her lungs were starting to burn she realised as he gripped her around the waist... which would have been fine, if those same lungs didn't feel absolutely fine seconds later, only to start to burn again... then fine again. It was a stark reminder of the situation she was still experiencing and the argument they'd been forced to abandon.

"Ok we need to get out of here. Or vent the smoke." Clara grasped his hand, dragging him towards the doors as the console was currently engulfed in a war between flames and smoke. The Doctor didn't protest as he followed close behind her. "Tell me it's not prehistoric out there?" she caught his chin focusing it on her, as his eyes darted about his beloved TARDIS which seemed to be in a hell of a state, distracted.

"No no, like I said, I hopped us out of there. Made the timorous beastie expel us."

"Expel?" she managed breathless, remembering he'd responded somewhat darkly to her comment about something 'eating' them.

"Technically vomited. Undignified but effective." He grumbled, ducking on instinct as a part of the upper galley seemed to fall away in a creak of metal that made her shriek and had her turning to the door in a hurry. Which was right about when it knocked. Several times.

"Hello?" A confident male voice barked through the wood, "Exit the box, and surrender to the glory of the Sontaran empire."

Clara blinked, "Strax?" she managed weakly recognising the dulcet tones, as if the words hadn't been clue enough as she stared up at the Doctor who grimaced slightly.

"Ok, so I might have hopped us a little further forward than I'd intended, in my defence I'm sleep deprived and there was... is a fire." He glanced once back at the blaze and with a grimace pulled open the door and stuck his head out, "Hello Grumpy!" he declared striding out, his hand trailing until it caught around hers and dragged her with him. The smoke was still cloying at her throat so she shut the door in a hurry, sealing it in and trying not to touch it too much noting in disgust that it was coated in what had to be saliva... or something else equally revolting. She also tried to ignore the Doctor as he deliberately moved to greet, or possibly antagonise the two women dressed in Victorian garb who were standing staring at him open mouthed as he got right up into their faces and declared them 'the green-one' and 'not the green-one.'

"Clara." Vastra's eyes alighted on her and then back onto what she correctly seemed to assume was the Doctor despite what to her was the new face, "Doctor? You've regenerated." she asked lightly just as a dinosaurs roar bellowed out, all but shaking the ground they were standing on as Clara glanced up at the gigantic creature that it would seem they had inadvertently dumped in Victorian London with a sinking sense of horror. Her mouth opened but she honestly had no words.

The Doctor didn't seem to have the same problem. "Oh, you've got a dinosaur too!" he declared in delight at their bemused faces, "Oi big man shut it!" he shouted back at the creature. The dinosaur bellowed again and the Doctor broke out into a grin. "Big woman, right, sorry!" Clara blinked trying to digest the fact that he spoke dinosaur with her usual air of 'slip that into the not important right now' category.

"Doctor, the dinosaur, did you...?" Vastra mostly got his attention back from the massive creature stalking the Thames as she indicated his somewhat battered looking TARDIS.

"Slight miscalculation." He muttered, "Turn them down would you." Vastra blinked clearly thrown by the sudden change in topic. "Reduce the frequency of those sonic lanterns, you're giving her... and me a headache." He grumbled, massaging his temples.

"How do you know?" Strax asked what Clara considered would have been the sensible question in anyone else but the Doctor's presence.

The Doctor merely glared at him. Vastra cut the glare short. "Jenny, be a dear go and inform the Inspector that we need to drop the frequency back somewhat, you'll probably have to show him, poor man thinks their magic boxes. We'll meet you back at the house." Jenny nodded once, looking thoroughly bemused between the Doctor, the dinosaur and Clara, which given the alternatives made Clara touch her hair in mild alarm realising she must have looked a state to compete for attention given the crowd.

But Vastra's attention was fixed on the Doctor, which at least was par for the course, "So then... a new face Doctor. Shall we get to know one another a little better?" Vastra smiled thinly at him, but her expression quite clearly said 'here we go again' as she indicated they should follow her. Clara suppressed the desire to warn her for that moment, she needed them to have faith that this new man _was_ the Doctor if they were going to treat him like it, they didn't need her throwing a bucket of cold hard realisation over it; but it made her stomach roil with unease because they really had no idea.


	18. Chapter 18

**Authors Note: Sorry for the slight delay in posting this normally I post weekly but I think from this point every 2 weeks is more likely, particularly as it is going to be following an AU version of S8 epi's and not knowing fully where that is going I don't want this to make no sense come the finale. **

**I'm also going to add a Dub-Con Warning to this chapter (_It's not actually intended as such, more a powerplay in line with earlier chapters but it may hit a little close to the mark for some, and no I'm in no way condoning it or saying that where these two are 'at the moment' is in anyway a healthy relationship)._**

**On a lighter note, thank you for all of the reviews and to the new readers glad you found this fic and are enjoying it enough to want to read it all in one go like that :) Also loving the new series at the moment, relationship wise between the two of them was a bit unsure after Kill the Moon, as they seemed to genuinely stop wanting to be around each other, but am happy given the events unfolding now that this isn't the case. Also the more it goes on the less 'paternal' vibes I get about them but maybe I'm reading too much into it. **

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><p><strong>CHAPTER EIGHTEEN<strong>

Clara had never actually been to 13 Paternoster Row, but it was a little eerie to recall it so well, like remembering a dream from one of her Echo's lives here. She stood still in the doorway of the parlors greenroom, her eyes on the wicker chairs, remembering a particularly tense conversation there... although she couldn't remember the words. Only that it was important that she convince the lizard woman to help her, to help the Doctor.

As if on cue she felt warm hands slide onto her shoulders and brush down her arms as he stepped into her space, his chest pressing against her back; it was difficult to imagine a time when she didn't know this man... when she had to fight for his attention, to get him to even notice her. Even his last face hadn't been as preoccupied with her as this version seemed to be, and she had been _his_ _mystery_ to solve.

"I'm fairly sure there isn't supposed to be a Tyrannosaurus Rex stalking the Thames contained by sonic lanterns in Victorian London _dear_." She murmured not taking her eyes from the room and the odd melancholy it had set within her. She heard him sigh and felt the way his breath tickled her neck.

"Yes well, not much I can do about that at the moment, looks like we were still inside it when I performed the short hop... the vomiting came after. The TARDIS is too damaged to return it, containment will do for now, I imagine in a few days she'll be right as rain to take us back."

Clara nodded, bowing her head and glancing at her hands, they looked the same as always, she turned her hand palm up and examined the flawless skin she knew had been damaged only hours ago. '_Then there was that'_. It was amazing what you could choose not to think about, she'd managed to go hours all the way back from the Thames to here, through their brief supper and conversations with Vastra, Strax and Jenny as the Doctor briefly caught them up. Which was to say that he'd said he found Trenzalore again, spent a thousand years there, died and was now... 'Scottish', or so Vastra had completed for him, her own lilt seemingly becoming stronger with amusement.

"Very." Clara had muttered, not offering anything else to the conversation, but she hadn't been able to shake the way Vastra was staring between them, the keen look in her green eyes, assessing and clearly wondering at the new dynamic between them. If she wanted to ask the question about whether the regeneration had changed their relationship she clearly correctly deduced that the sour expression on the Doctor's face meant that now was not the time. Clara didn't feel like enlightening her about the fact that the sour expression was a permanent feature.

She was pulled back into the moment as his lips brushed her temple and she was forced to focus on his words, sensing she'd missed several of them if his sigh was anything to go by. "Jenny has made us up a room, why don't you come get some rest." He offered quietly, his hands dropping to her waist and gently turning her so that she moved towards the stairs.

"I'm fine." She replied obliging him and lifting one foot in front of the other. "Wasn't that the point of your miracle cure?" The last was said with enough bite to still his hands against her as they reached the top of the stairs and her stomach gave an unpleasant flip of nerves as the unsettled nature of their postponed argument flared to life again.

His grip tightened fractionally. "A few hours ago you were still dying... humour me." He growled back, low enough so as not to be overheard as he guided her towards the bedroom Jenny had made up for them. Although it had been with some hesitation she noted as the young woman had touched her arm briefly, clearly she hadn't shared Vastra's restraint _'are you and he then... I mean I know he's changed, but he's still the same man, still the Doctor yes?' _Clara had sighed, smiled in what she hoped wasn't too weary a manner and merely nodded, '_yes he's still my husband Jenny. One bedroom will be fine.' _Which seemed to have allayed her fears as she'd had smiled back at her patting her arm in a way Clara tried to imagine wasn't sympathy. After all the Doctor had only been in their presence an hour or so and he was already stirring up trouble and frowning looks at his more... acerbic nature. She wondered if there new physical differences were also giving Jenny pause, but then given the physical discrepancy between her and her own wife, she hardly thought her shallow enough for such thoughts.

The door loomed in front of her and Clara hesitated, his hand at her back, he sensed her unease and reached around her, pushing the door open and exerting enough pressure on her lower back to have her lead him inside. Clara stepped in eyeing the Victorian furnishings with that same feeling of nostalgia and trying not to hear the click of the door lock.

"You know I've never understood the point of a bedroom." He mused, as clearly grasping for a distraction as she was. "An entire room just for sleeping in." He tutted, "Time Lords don't have them, the beds just unfold from the walls whenever you are in need of one, which in our case is rarely if ever most get by on catnaps between blinks. But we seem to have been in the minority on that as a species. Although the TARDIS does seem to enjoy creating them for my... _guests_." He hesitated over what to call his previous companions and she wondered if he only kept one with her to give him some place for them to have sex that wasn't going to deface his beloved machine. But his voice grated alongside the meaningless words he was offering, all she could think about was what he'd done, to her. How was she supposed to feel about it? Grateful, furious, grief stricken, or just glad to be alive?

He clearly picked up on her mood. "Is this the part where we have another argument Clara?" his low rumble of clear exasperation rolled over her and she set her shoulders, turning back to look at him mildly surprised with how dashing he looked, dappled as he was now in the mixture of candlelight and the flickering dim electric light. She wasn't sure she'd ever be able to explain why it was this face could get under her skin and attract her in ways that the younger version simply never could. Oh she'd loved him, been more than happy with him, but with _this_ him, it was like there was an itch she constantly needed to scratch when she caught him staring.

"Would there be a point?" Clara responded to his clear irritation with her own, finding she had to look away, his visage haunted her enough at the best of times without adding a trace of Victorian romanticism to it with the flickering light.

He sighed, his hand rising to run wearily across his face and up through his hair, ruffling it in a way that only added to her irritation with him; only he could have stepped out of a crashed TARDIS, vomited up by a T-Rex and deposited onto the shores of the Thames, without a crease or a smudge. "I will not apologise for saving your life, not now not ever." He told her bluntly and she smiled sadly back at him.

"Of course not." She turned away from him, "But you could at least try to empathise with what you've cost me... on purpose." She added, "Because I know you've been planning this, 'rainy day remember'?" she tossed a dark look back at him, "You were just waiting for the right moment... the right _injury_ to whip out your magic wand and take away the only threat left to us. My humanity."

He let out a sound close to a tut. "Oh don't be so dramatic dear, if it's the word _humanity_ you fear you've lost then trust me, you're still painfully human. Just a little more durable now."

Clara closed her eyes, feeling tears prick but again she wasn't sure if they were for her or for him. "Humans age and die Doctor... it is their defining trait, their mortality."

"You will still die." He bit out, the admission clearly still painfully abhorrent to him.

"When?" she snapped, growing cross with his callous attitude, with his _alienness._ He didn't immediately answer and she contemplated what that would mean, he'd said she'd absorbed enough energy to fuel an entire regeneration... how many human years did that equate to? "A few hundred?" she questioned but his expression didn't flicker and she felt something leaden settle in her gut, "A few thousand?" she asked with disbelief and he had the grace to look away this time, crossing to the bed and making a show of examining the brass fittings on the bed posts.

"Jack Harkness is human and he will live considerably longer than that." He pointed out turning back to give her a look that suggested she was being ridiculous. "And unlike the good Captain I'm sure there will be limitations to your ability to heal." He actually had the gall to look like that was something else he might consider needing to fix.

Clara bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from screaming in frustration at him, her hands clenching into fists at her side and she realised she actually wanted to slap him again... hard. Just like that time he'd pulled her out of her cell on Earth. "Jack Harkness makes your skin crawl with his wrongness and sends the TARDIS fleeing to the end of the Universe to be rid of him. He will end up a billion years old, a giant floating telepathic head in a jar. He is hardly what I would hold up as the poster boy for what's left of my humanity Doctor." The whole conversation was eerily reminiscent of the one she'd had with Jack himself as she'd tried to convince him she wasn't like him... wasn't immortal; ironic that the argument was turning to ash in her mouth now.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "And yet you flirted with him." There was a childishness in his tone that cut her given the seriousness of the conversation and she felt compelled to cut him back, honestly she'd thought this was behind them, they'd spent several months on the TARDIS now, the Earth and UNIT already beginning to fade from memory; half out of necessity for her.

Perhaps he had ulterior motives, maybe he was trying to distract her, to divert her anger and her despair, but if he wanted to play this game she was more than happy to oblige as she felt something close to satisfaction fill her as she responded in kind. "Oh we did a little more than flirt." Clara replied with a smirk, enjoying the way he spun to face her, his features instantly whitening in horror as they settled slowly into fury, his narrowed eyes fixed on her. "The good Captain is quite the kisser." Ok so it was perhaps a white lie, Jack had technically kissed _her_, but she hadn't stopped him and she took a perverse pleasure in the way the Doctor's mouth twisted with distaste at the clear thought of it. She didn't feel the need to qualify that Jack had all but accosted her, trying to convince her to forget her love for the man glaring soundly at her now; right now he deserved to stew on the idea that maybe he wasn't front and centre in her heart... even if it was a ridiculous notion. And one she was starting to wish was actually no longer the case.

The Doctors expression was dark, his blue eyes narrowed to a crystalline intensity as he observed her, "You're trying to make me angry." His voice was soft, quiet, but there was a dangerous tremor to it that she knew would have had most people heading for the door.

She barked out a cold laugh, not in the slightest bit amused. "Well it would make us a pair wouldn't it?" it wasn't an answer, but why let him know he was right. "Besides you bought him up. You wanted to let me know how much Jack and I apparently have in common now." She slid up to him, listening to the sharp rhythmic thuds of his hearts in her head and hearing the warning in it as she trailed a hand across his jacket buttons, being deliberately provocative because she knew now how her touch could fluster him as much as his did hers. "Maybe for once I'm just agreeing with you."

She looked up at him smiling thinly, "You're right." Her tone was biting and his eyes flashed, "Isn't that what you like to hear," she smirked seeing the way his jaw twitched with all he was holding back as she continued to push, gaining satisfaction in seeing him become every inch as riled as she was. Why the hell should he stand there and get to be unaffected by this, certain in his own decision to steal her humanity from her without a flicker of negative emotion? Maybe it wasn't the guilt she wanted from him, the humility, but she'd take his anger, jealousy, frustration; anything just to know this unfeeling asshole could still _feel_ something. If she couldn't make him feel guilty then she'd damn well make him suffer in other ways.

"Given as we have so much in common now. Perhaps he and I..." he didn't let her finish, grabbing her firmly and all but slamming her into the hard bedroom wall, his hand pressed painfully hard against her mouth sealing off the words he clearly hadn't wanted her to say. His reaction startled her, she'd never expected him to become physical, words were his lash, always had been, but moments passed and his grip refused to lessen and his steely blue eyes bore into hers. Their faces were so close that their noses brushed as she felt the heavy rise and fall of his chest against hers. The veneer of his civility seemed to slid off him as the possessive monster she knew he harboured bore down on her.

It was reckless, but she felt reckless right now as the tension grew palpably between them, but she refused to back down; her anger giving her courage as she stared defiantly back at him her fingers digging into the material of his jacket and keeping him close, feeling the warm puff of air from her own lungs against his hand as it refused to move or lessen its grip on her mouth. His head dropped to her ear and she almost flinched at the telltale sound of his zipper. Maybe she should have expected that... wasn't she the one that had taught this version of him that sex was a form of control? Apparently she was too good a teacher.

His lips moved to her ear, "You wanted me angry." He reminded her his lips brushing hers as he spoke, "so congratulations, I'm furious." he could read her as easily as ever it seemed, even protected behind her mental walls; but perhaps in her anger they were a little shaky. She bit down hard on his hand mostly in irritation and he didn't even flinch, just shoved harder against her mouth, making it hard to even work her jaw. In retaliation his own teeth bit down hard against the sensitive lobe of her ear and she bucked sharply at the sudden pain. She felt his free hand move up her thighs and push beneath her skirt, she barely had time to register what he was doing when she felt the sharp sting as the material of her underwear was yanked free of her and she gasped half in surprise and half at the sudden flash of arousal his rough actions caused. Clara wanted to say something, to bark back at him, take control of this situation as she had before with him, but his grip on her mouth tightened and he pushed her head back until it hit the wall behind with enough warning in it to make her hiss, biting down on the venom filled words she longed to fling at him and would when her mouth was her own again.

His smile was razor sharp and she felt the flash of unease warring with arousal because that was the look he used to face down invading alien armies. It was pitiless and at the same time there was an unhinged wildness to it that spoke of all consuming feeling. Not for the first time she wondered how it was they had ended up like this, her equally wild eyes staring into his fathomless ones. "Do you hate me my Love?" He asked gently, the thumb that kept its grip on her mouth brushing gently against her jaw, she let her warring railing emotions crash against him and he flinched, his grip tightening further until she was sure he would leave a bruise, but for the first time she realised his hands were trembling, in fact his whole body was. She didn't know what he would do... what he was thinking, if he was even thinking at all. He was lost, _utterly lost_ she realised. She'd meant to piss him off, to make him feel something of what she was; not terrify him into something desperate.

Clara released his lapels and lifted her hands to his face, panic beginning to settle inside of her as she tried to gently settle the disquiet she seemed to have unleashed in him with the softness of her touch; this wasn't how it was with them... he didn't get to dictate the terms. But he was having none of it, he released her mouth to grasp her hands by the wrists instead, slamming them back hard beside her head, pinning her with a sharp grunt and taking her mouth firmly with his to stop her from trying to convince him otherwise... or cry out at his harsh treatment.

"You wanted to goad the monster from its cage Clara." he snarled, kicking her legs apart with his knees with enough force to leave her unbalanced as he stepped into the space. "Did you want to prove to yourself that I'm nothing more than that?" He hissed as he bit her lips sharply until she could taste the metallic sting of blood, clearly drawing his own conclusions from her comments, she wasn't entirely sure he was wrong about them at this point. _What had she wanted to prove?_

"Did you want to give yourself the excuse you've been looking for to pull away from me for good, to leave?" The words were raw like he'd torn them from a gaping wound inside of him and Clara shook her head violently wanting desperately to steer this conversation back on track from the wild rails he seemed to have tilted onto; but she couldn't find her voice as his eyes seared her with the utter madness swirling in them. He clearly didn't want her to argue, or to reason with him, to find a way to drag him back to sanity right now. In fact given the way he was pressed against her holding her firm, his clear arousal straining it was obvious that right now he just wanted to fuck her and to do it _his _way for once. To prove that in this moment she was still _his_, no matter what might come later. Consequences clearly be damned. _Impossible man_ she snarled internally, hoping it breached his mental walls.

But it was obvious she had pushed him too far, as he released one hand to free himself of his clothing; clearly his own actions had left him more shaken than either of them had realised. Or perhaps it was simpler than that, this sudden fear of losing her that he'd so recently thought he'd fixed, only to have it suddenly rear its ugly head in an entirely new way, with the realisation that she could simply _leave_. Finding her voice she opened her mouth to argue that he was wrong about this, that she'd never leave him, when he shoved his tongue into it and thrust himself hard and sharply between her legs. Her cry of pain was swallowed by his mouth as he took her hands at the wrists again, pinning them to the wall as he pinned her body with his hips. He wanted it to hurt, to mark, she realised dimly picking up on some of his desperate, swirling thoughts, as he thrust deeply into her unprepared body; his girth stretching her painfully and she cried out, forcing his hand to cover her mouth again.

Her suddenly freed hand went to the back of his head, holding him firmly. She could have pushed him away she realised, clawed at him found some way to break his hold, it wouldn't be that hard; whilst she recognised his current fury and desire to hurt her he wouldn't actually force her... maybe she should have stopped him, _probably_, before this set a precedent; but she couldn't find it in her as he moaned throatily against her neck, not relenting in his punishing rhythm. For whatever reason he'd convinced himself he needed this, and he was despite his arguments to the contrary, seemingly intent on pushing her away, on driving a wedge between them, on realising his own fears. Well she refused to play his game, refused to let him destroy them, or himself.

She projected her intent in that moment as clearly and as loudly as she could, her fury and determination to force him to face himself and his fears; he grimaced clearly getting some of it and responding as he slammed her hips back into the unforgiving wall again and again driving the air out of her, until she was forced to raise her legs around his hips in an attempt to ease the pressure. It didn't help if anything he slid deeper, until she was sure she could feel him brushing her cervix and he groaned with satisfaction as he took her from this new angle.

"Would you have let _him_ do this?" he rasped nose to nose and she knew suddenly they weren't talking about Jack anymore, instead this was about the ghost of the other man in their relationship... But he didn't give her the opportunity to speak as he clasped his hand firmly around her mouth again. She closed her eyes banishing the images of her Bowtie Doctor when he'd taken her roughly in desperation; it had never been like this and she realised with a jolt she wouldn't have accepted it from him, not like she was now. Her eyes darkened on his feral ones, hating that he could twist her like this, turn her emotions on their head, because they both knew she was _letting_ him do this. Not once had she said no, not even in her mind as he'd slammed himself into her. Even now her body was starting to accept his violent coupling, the sharp ache of pain sliding into a deep swell of pleasure. Oh she knew it was all kinds of wrong and probably hinted at a truck load of issues she was developing, no doubt mostly because of the man fucking her wildly; but right now, in this moment she wasn't going to back down from him or let him claim control this.

He was getting away with this treatment only because she'd let him... she'd deal with the why of it when she wasn't fighting back an orgasm strong enough to make her want to scream out loud, the consequences, or his intense grip sealing her mouth closed, be damned. This was her husband's monster given life and momentary reign because she had pushed; he was right of course she'd wanted to shine a light on this side of him. To get him to acknowledge its existence even with her, to admit it had been _that_ which had driven him to remake her according to his design. She supposed then that it made it her monster too.

Her eyes fluttered shut as she was to overcome with feeling to focus on thought, as she panted lightly against his hand, feeling his grip softened fractionally over her mouth as she started to feel light headed, "You can't leave." He admitted resolute as his thrusts became less sharp and he started to ease his rhythm just as she started to crave each invasion again, "You can't die on me." He expanded his claim as his hand fell away from her mouth and the rush of understanding she felt from him had her sliding her hand from the back of his head to his face, feeling something wet brush her fingers as she realised he was crying silently, his tears sliding free of his furious eyes. And so they came to the crux of the issue, but she didn't need to hear him admit his fears of what her death might have done to him; how impending that must have seemed to an ageless Time Lord. That it truly would have unleashed for good the monster that was intent on hurting her now with only the small glance of freedom he had given it.

She felt a swell of pity which was chased by anger for the broken Time Lord she'd taken as her husband. This was her choice she reminded herself, she'd chosen him, and he was right there was no in between, she couldn't just have the bits of him she liked, it was all or nothing.

He began to slow, his tears becoming a torrent as the trembling which had wracked his body from the start grew more insistent. "Don't stop." She found her voice, almost desperately now as she brushed his tears aside with her thumb, "Harder... please." She urged him, knowing she couldn't accept his gentleness, not now, not the way she was feeling; the monster had wanted to fuck her, not the man. Ill-advised or not she needed him to finish what he started, to force his way back into her heart, to claim it even in his darkness. He hesitated his gaze locked on hers for an endless moment before he did just that, taking her wrists again hard enough to bruise and pushing them into the wall before continuing with his violent thrusts, slamming her spine into the unforgiving wood until she is certain she'd leave an imprint. But his pelvis was pushing into her clit again like this, hurting and pleasuring her all at once until the pressure builds to almost unbearable levels. He bites down on her lips, then her jaw, her neck and she clutches him with her hips, wanting to snap him in two and draw him closer all at once. Her nails digging into his hands until she knows she's drawn blood as he grinds into her. When the pressure finally explodes she bites down hard on his tongue filling her mouth, until she can taste his blood and feel the spasm it creates in him until he is shaking and spilling himself into her with a guttural sound on shaking legs.

They breathe together sharing one breath, but he doesn't dare meet her eyes she notes, as his head instantly drops to her shoulder and she can feel his hearts thumping wildly against her; his hands finally release hers and she winces as the blood rushes back into them and her spine finally protests at the treatment, if only for a moment before all discomfort fades as if it was never there... a stark reminder of what he's done, what he's taken from her.

"Get off." She snarled, letting her legs fall from his hips, but somehow she is still pinned by his body. He lets out a shuddering breath and raises his tear streaked face to her finally, the desolation she sees there should move her, would have, if she couldn't feel the underlying satisfaction rolling off him in waves that he has claimed her like this, taken back some of her power over him.

"Off!" she rasps no louder than a whisper but her voice is laced with a command. He lowers his hands to steady her hips as he steps back and she tries not to let the relief show as her feet connect with the floor once again and she can breathe easily without the crush of his body against hers. He opens his mouth and her hand connects solidly with his face the impact jarring his whole body and stinging her palm with its intensity. But it's not enough and she slaps him again, harder, seeing the telltale rush of colour to his cheek and wondering if she might have actually bruised him with a disturbing flash of satisfaction.

"If you weren't my husband Doctor, this is the part where you and I and any other sane Companion of yours would have parted company."_ Where she really would leave, _just like he feared... like he almost seemed to want her to do just to prove himself right.

"But I am your husband." He bit out and the pain that hit her chest at those words, closed her throat against the sob she wanted to release but wouldn't... not yet.

"Yes, you are." She accused, his blinking red rimmed blue eyes reaching her for a moment. "Now get out!" she bit off, hearing the venom in her own voice and feeling the way her heart was tripping with her utter fury and no small amount of despair. His fingers curled into fists and she spared a moment to wonder if he was considering hitting the wall, or her... it wouldn't after all damage her now, but that was hardly the point and she found herself almost without reason tilting her chin up, inviting him to try.

"This..." he tried his voice a growl and her finger shot up in warning before him.

"Not a word. You don't get to speak to me. Not now, and not until I'm God damn good and ready to hear another word out of your mouth!" He glowered at her, his still wet eyes destroying his clear attempt to storm away without an apology as he turned towards the door, eying it with distaste. She tensed fractionally sensing a fight brewing in him before his gaze switched to the window and his eyes danced with the prospect as he crossed determinedly to it, shoving up the sash with enough force to have it rattle. He glanced back at her and gave her a look that promised that this was not in the least bit over, before he ducked out of it and slammed it shut behind him.

Clara stood listening for the telltale sounds of someone in the house coming to investigate; when nothing sounded after a few minutes she let out the breath she'd been holding before her entire body crumpled and she slid down the wall clutching her head in her hands as quiet sobs racked her. It wasn't fair this wasn't supposed to be her life... or her husband; the Doctor _wasn't_ this and she couldn't shake the frightening idea that it was all her fault. That if he had never married her, if he had never loved her that he might not have become this at all. What was it he'd said on Trenzalore? _'You can't change history if you're part of it.'_ What if that was all this was, a self fulfilling prophecy, what if they'd prevented nothing, merely fulfilled it; played their parts? What if he'd only succeeded in creating himself and the monster he feared that day when he chose to try and change his own history?

She'd once accused this version of him having a plan, a scheme and that they'd both been trying to trick each other when he'd called his younger self. What if it was so much simpler than that, what if the Universe, time-itself, was the trick. This was what had happened and would always happen... what if that cell in the TARDIS was still waiting for her, with a madman that used to be her husband holding the keys? If that was the case then somehow for some fucked up reason she wasn't yet able to process or admit to herself, she was a willing participant in putting them both there.


	19. Chapter 19

**Authors Note: Content warning for some scenes of graphic violence that some may find disturbing**

**Spoiler Warnings: As mentioned before but again just to be sure, this will follow an AU version of S8 based on my current character development/relationships, but some of the plots will obviously be spoilerific for all of Season 8.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER NINETEEN<strong>

Clara couldn't sleep, it might have had something to do with the unspecified time she'd spent sleeping in the medbay prior to their arrival in Victorian London, which she suspected was probably longer than 48hours given the Doctors rumpled state. Or it might have been the gnawing gut wrenching feeling that her marriage was failing and her last memory of him and what he'd done, the dark step he'd forced them both to take circling like it was somehow another nail in the coffin of their relationship. That she was somehow failing the Doctor... and that he was failing her. Or it might have been the baleful roars of the T-Rex outside her window as it stomped along the Thames calling out like it was in pain.

The pitch changed and she shot up realising with alarm it _did_ sound like it was in pain, she ran to the window looking out in time to see flames engulf the gigantic body evident even from this distance as smoke billowed into the air with the creatures death cries.

"Vastra!" she shrieked, thankful that she decided to lie down fully clothed on top of the bed she hadn't expected to sleep in, as she shot out of the door and almost bowled Jenny over.

Jenny clasped a hand to her chest in clear surprise, "Clara, Lord you scared me half to death, what is it?"

"The dinosaur just went up in flames, we need to get to the Thames, fast." Jenny to her credit didn't ask her any questions just hurried away with a 'right you are Ma'am' as Strax appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

"I'll get the carriage ready shall I." He grinned wickedly at the prospect of carnage and hurried away, muttering something about incentivising the horses.

Clara felt oddly helpless, she was out of time and place and reliant on Vastra and her group; her eyes drifted to the smoke and glow of flames still visible from her window and prayed that it had nothing to do with the Doctor.

Vastra appeared from within the house all but sneaking up on her and Clara stared evenly at back. "Would it be prudent perhaps to wait for the Doctor?" the lizard woman asked, but the expression on her face was entirely curious and Clara realised with irritation that she was fishing, clearly knowing full well he was no longer in the house and probably a good deal of _why_ too.

Clara felt her own expression harden. "You know the Doctor, if there is trouble, I'm sure he'll find it for himself." Vastra had the sense to at least nod her head in acknowledgement of Clara's unspoken request not to talk about it and to accept the truth in her words. Clara sighed inwardly of course it was too much to ask that Vastra's keen hearing had not picked up on the events between her and the Doctor earlier this evening and she watched her retreat with some trepidation.

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><p>The Doctor stood on the bridge watching the smouldering remains of the dinosaur, the heat of the flames close enough that he could feel it prickling his skin. It would be nothing but ash soon, the heat too intense for normal combustion which ruled out a regular human bout of murder in this instance. He felt strangely vacant as he stared at the remains, he was curious yes, but the passing of this magnificent creature even to this particularly violent end didn't even spark a hint of guilt. This creature was here because of him. Its death was his fault and it honestly didn't bother him in the slightest... but that absence of care at least bothered him; which he supposed was something.<p>

He heard the stage coach come to a screaming halt and felt the presence of his wife as they dismounted, dimly also aware of Vastra's little gang. He turned and noticed Clara hung back behind them, her eyes not on him but on the burning corpse. He didn't know if he felt guilty for what happened between them or not, he despised causing her pain, but it was all he seemed to be able to do now. His eyes lingered on her for a moment more as she refused to acknowledge him and he accepted that, because the alternative was making her and he honestly didn't think he had the right. Everything used to be so clear to him, logical, fast but fluid, now it was like there was a cacophony of sound and feelings coursing through him, most of it with her name or face attached to it, confusing him all to hell.

Vastra slid up beside him her eyes wide and reflecting the horror and compassion he knew Clara would have wanted him to feel. "Who, or what could have done this thing?" she posed the question.

"No." He growled suppressing the eye roll at the stupidity and dimwittedness of others, and disappointment, he always expected so much better of Madame Vastra.

"I'm sorry?" Vastra snapped, sounding as confused as he'd anticipated which only dented his nostalgia for the Great Detective stories.

"No, that is not the question. That is not where we start." He snapped, deciding that if there was nothing else he could do until his TARDIS was ready to fly again then he may as well deal with this trifling little mystery. If nothing else it would alleviate the boredom and give his dear wife the distance she clearly needed from him.

Strax grunted, "The question is how? The flesh itself has been combusted." His confidence in his own idiocy was almost laughable.

The Doctor hopped up onto the parapet of the bridge and gazed down at the smouldering remains, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. "No, no, shut up!" he mocked, "What do you all have for brains, pudding? Look at you, Why can't I meet a decent species? Planet of the pudding brains." He snarled furious at them all, at himself and feeling that old peculiar loathing he had for the human race and this blasted planet rear its ugly head as he stared at their ignorant gawping expressions. Ironic that Strax and Vastra had been the once to bring on a bout of it when they were not human, but had clearly chosen to live amongst and emulate the race he no longer cared to understand.

He heard Clara's weary sigh, "There is a dinosaur burning in the heart of London," she came to join their small group overlooking the river, but her eyes were on the people, on the crowds that had gathered to gawp just as his had been. "And these people aren't nearly surprised enough. They've seen this before... maybe not on a dinosaur, but they've seen a body burning like this, and recently."

The Doctor couldn't help the smile that quirked his lips as he stared at her folding his arms in admiration. She never would be anything but perfect he realised, always asking the right questions.

"Oh by the Goddess," Vastra's eyes widened in realisation, "Of course," she murmured, "there have been other murders like this."

"Look at them." The Doctor declared, "Gawking. So if all of the pudding brains are gawking, then what is he?" he pointed to the man in the suit and top hat walking calmly through the crowds, his eyes nor his interest piqued by the scenes all around him.

"He does seem remarkably unmoved by the available spectacle." Vastra remarked her sharp eyes on his form.

The Doctor felt Clara's eyes flicker to him for a moment, and he kept his averted, hopping off the parapet and into the water beneath, a dramatic exit perhaps, but she needed distance and not to be interrogated by Vastra and her team as to his whereabouts and intentions. For once it seemed he could do right by her.

"What is he doing?" Jenny called out after him. "He'll drown."

"He really won't." Clara replied and he smiled to himself as he hit the water, because she sounded reluctantly pleased about that fact.

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><p>Clara sat scouring the morning newspaper that Strax had almost lobbed directly at her head this morning, pulling at the Victorian collar of the dress Jenny had leant her. The odd flickering memory of similarly restrictive garments from a very different lifetime refused to budge and she had to focus on the text in front of her eyes. In all honesty it was better than letting her mind dwell on the Doctor and where he might be. God knows the man could be a menace, letting him loose alone on Victorian London was bound to cause a ripple or two, particularly if he had set his mind to fixing this combusting dinosaur problem. She'd asked for space, like everything with this version of him, he certainly knew how to give her what she wanted.<p>

Her eyes caught on the words that were always going to draw her attention _'impossible girl'. _She blinked, subtlety never had been his style, she sat there quietly absorbing the rest of the message _'lunch on the other side?'_ and wondering at the code he was using. It wasn't like him, _either_ him, or _any_ him for that matter. He might have been more into the long game this time around, but his manipulations always tended to have a short term reward of some kind to tide him over; patience really never had been his thing. She could hardly imagine him out there, scouring the streets for clues, taking the time to come up with a cipher she could figure out quickly enough and place it in the morning edition. Clearly he wanted her attention, at least this way he was giving her the choice to come and find him, if she was willing. It was surprisingly mature of him, even if it was masquerading as a childish gesture.

Keeping it simple, because she knew his style she turned the page over and held it up to the light. Mancini's Italian restaurant was on the back. A smile crept onto her face, she supposed lunch was a start if not quite a gesture and the idea of a mystery to solve with him was better than the alternative of stewing quietly to herself over the mess they'd made of everything. Or staying inside and pointedly trying to ignore Vastra's questions.

Unfortunately she ran into Strax in the dining room as she was trying to find Madame Vastra to let her know she had a meeting to keep. The Sontaran gave her an appraising nod, "Ah Miss Clara you look better now you're up."

Clara paused unsure how to take that. "Thank you Strax." She settled on with a tight smile.

"Oh no wait, trick of the light, you still look awful." He muttered, with a smirk that never seemed to leave his lips, she opened her mouth to respond with a spud comment but he beat her to it. "Can I get you anything?" he asked and she considered it briefly before deciding it was probably safest merely to find Vastra and deal with whatever the Doctor had wanted first, with any luck he or Vastra would have found something by now, they had after all had all night to ponder it.

"I'm fine, thank you Strax."

"Eager to get on?" he queried and she lifted an eyebrow as he pulled out a monocle like device with three lenses, "Excellent." He all but cackled with obvious glee, "I would say it's long past time for your mandatory medical examination."

Clara blinked. "It's really not." She tried to skirt around him and found a rather strong hand on her shoulder guiding her none too politely into the seat at the kitchen table.

"Mandatory." He bit out with a half smile that sounded almost like a threat as he waved the monocle again. "If we are to serve together I need to be sure you are in peak physical prowess, eh?" he punched her in the arm and she winced. "Now, say ah." He muttered. Clara obliged. "You didn't move your lips."

Clara closed her mouth and glared into the monocle he was aiming at her eyes. "That's my eye Strax, the mouths down here."

He removed the monocle with a surly expression, "Oh. Yes well easy mistake to make with you humans." He whipped out another device and Clara shifted uncomfortably trying to get up. "Interesting." He blinked dropping the device. Clara didn't even bother to ask just waited for him to enlighten her. "I think my instrument must be faulty, I'm not getting anything from your brain scan... you're human so you can't be blocking it." He tapped it sharply down on the table and she winced as it rattled, probably damaged. She considered explaining that her brain had been rewired a little differently after her marriage to a Time Lord and the inevitable practice she'd gotten keeping his mind out, but honestly it was faintly amusing to see the Sontaran so perplexed. He picked up another device, a full body scanner and she reached up trying to grab it, not in time it seemed as he blinked once at his scanner and then back up at her.

"Miss Clara... you appear to have upgraded your humanity." He tapped the scanner with his finger before narrowing his gaze at her somewhat enviously. "I must commend you Boy for shedding such a weakness for a clear tactical advantage such as cellular regeneration. You will make excellent cannon fodder like this."

Clara dropped his gaze counting to ten to curb the flash of anger, the alien soldier clearly had no idea he was stomping all over her still fresh wounds on this issue. She knew she shouldn't have let him scan her, but in her defence she wasn't exactly used to the idea that there was something off about her biologically that she might need to hide from prying eyes. "Yes thank you Strax, I'm well aware of my current medical status."

"But it would seem that we were not." Vastra's silken voice was almost a welcome distraction at this point as Strax seemed to produce something vaguely probe like and was grinning at her maniacally with it. Clara shot to her feet and hastily put the chair between them.

"Yes well I think that's enough medical examinations for today." Clara turned only for Vastra to block her way. Clara stopped, she was many things but skilled in unarmed combat was not one of them, UNITS basic training aside, Vastra would wipe the floor with her and she had a grim expression that suggested she not be tested.

"Clara my dear, won't you join me, I think it's time you and I had a little chat. Let's call it the psychological portion of your examination shall we?" Vastra smile was thin and her arm held out stiffly to guide her in the direction of her green room. Clara considered breezing past her, after all she did have somewhere to be at lunch time today, but a cursory glance at the grandfather clock she passed in the hall revealed it to be barely 9am, she apparently had nothing but time.

Vastra sat in her peacock wicker chair and looked up curiously at her through a veil Clara was certain wasn't there a moment ago, Jenny stood to her left, looking positively anxious as Clara sighed and took a seat opposite resigned to this, whatever _it_ was.

"Should I ask why you're wearing the veil?" Clara gestured to the dark thing that practically obscured her face.

"Should I ask why you are keeping secrets from us?" Vastra shot back, her tone clipped with anger Clara could well understand.

"And what secrets have I kept from you Madame?" Clara smiled back at her.

"Such a cynical smile." Vastra noted turning to glance at Jenny and she could almost hear the unspoken conversation between them, _'it's worse than we thought'._ "The Doctor, he's regenerated, changed." She prompted and Clara merely waited patiently for a point to present itself. "You told Jenny, told us all in fact that he was still the same man, still the Doctor."

Clara glanced once at Jenny who was staring back uneasily at her, faintly guilty. "That is what a Time Lord does." Clara replied, not playing this fishing game.

Vastra harrumphed at the non answer, "It is however apparent that he is no longer the dashing young man who took you as his lover and his wife; he is in appearance at least older and in temperament certainly much less agreeable."

Clara shifted uncomfortably in her seat, tension beginning to pool in her shoulder blades whilst anger bubbled away in her chest, making it ache with the desire to lash out at someone or something.

Vastra continued undeterred by her clear agitation, "But he is still the Doctor... a man that has walked this universe for centuries untold. He who has seen stars turn to dust."

"I am well aware of what he is." Clara bit out. "And might I add that our marital problems are not your concern."

Vastra snorted with clear derision. "Did you really think loving him would be so easy; that he would remain unchanged forever? You might as well give your heart to a mountain range as to the Doctor."

Now she was being deliberately provocative and Clara felt her fists ball, unsure if Vastra meant a word of this or if she was trying to provoke a reaction. Either way the words cut, but then she supposed the truth often did. Clearly she was under the mistaken belief that somehow his appearance was the root of their issues.

"You don't know what you're talking about." Clara bit out coldly trying to keep the anger from creeping into her voice and knowing she was failing if the self satisfied little smirk she could see forming beneath the lizard's veil was anything to go by.

"Why do you think he used to look so young?" Vastra's patronising tone began to grate and Clara found her fingers drumming impatiently against the arm rests.

"Enlighten me, because I'm sure you understand my husband better than I." Vastra actually flinched at that and Clara took a small measure of satisfaction in reminding the woman how close she was coming to thin ice.

"My dear he wore that face for the same reason I wear this veil." Clara merely quirked an eyebrow waiting for the pearl of wisdom Vastra thought she was giving her. "To be accepted."

"Ah." Clara rolled her eyes, "Well I never could have come to such a resounding conclusion as the Great Detective I'm sure." Jenny winced and Clara got to her feet deciding she'd had more than enough of this.

Vastra's voice rose, stopping her from merely leaving the room. "I wear a veil to keep from view what many are pleased to call my disfigurement. I do not wear it as a courtesy to such people, but as a judgment on the quality of their hearts."

Clara snorted with derision, "Are you judging me?"

"The Doctor, your husband regenerated in your presence. The young man disappeared, the veil lifted. He trusted you. Are you judging him?" The ringing in Vastra's tone was enough to have Clara spinning around until she was inches from the lizard woman, glaring down at her.

"You think that is what this is about... I'm angry because he's no longer a young pretty face?" she barked out a laugh that was anything but amused. "You have no idea." She all but hissed at the woman who was daring to call her something so shallow and she too slowly got to her feet until she was towering over Clara's smaller frame, but she'd faced down a Time Lord in his fury, this was nothing. She leant in closer to the concealed face of the other woman, "Remove your veil Madame it seems to be distorting your vision; or has _my_ pretty face so distracted you that it's taken your wits as well?"

Vastra hissed, a truly unpleasant sound that was intended to make her recoil; it didn't work, so Vastra chose to use words as her lash instead. "We bought you into this house in good faith, you told us that man was still the Doctor, we trusted you!" she accused, finally the truth revealed in her flash of anger. This had nothing to do with his appearance and they both knew it, this was about the man behind the masks he wore; it always was and she was momentarily irritated that she had let Vastra con her into thinking otherwise to get a rise.

Clara felt something snap inside of her and she turned away from the other woman before she was tempted to put her hands around her throat; Vastra had been pushing her just to make this damn point, instead she had made it for her, revealing herself instead. "He _is_ the Doctor." Clara bit out.

"The Doctor I knew would never have behaved in the vulgar manner such as I overheard last night, nor would he merely abandon his wife to go chasing after some Victorian murder mystery." Vastra's tone had softened a little but her words had lost none of their bite.

"The Doctor you knew is dead. A changed man remember?" Clara pointed out, turning to look back over her shoulder at Vastra and noting that the veil had vanished and she was staring into pained green eyes.

"No one can change that much and still hope to call himself the Doctor. Secrets are not welcome in this house!" Vastra barked, her point finally made, apparently the lizard woman from the dawn of time didn't appreciate being left in the dark.

"Secrets protect us, secrets keep us safe." Clara murmured the half forgotten words her bow-tied Doctor had once used on her in a mostly defunct time line because there was no way she could tell this woman that the man she'd let into her house might well be the amalgamation of all of the Doctors darkness come home to roost.

"Are we safe?" Jenny cut across the heated exchange with an honest question, her eyes imploring her and reminding Clara that she was still there.

"The Doctor might not be dead, but right now he's lost in the ruin of himself. No one is safe." Clara replied quietly, her piece said as she turned her back on them both and stalked from the room, knowing for all the care they'd taken of their bowtie loving Doctor through his dark days, they weren't equipped to deal with the shadows he cast now.

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><p>Mancini's Italian family restaurant looked fairly innocuous, on a relatively nice street; Clara glanced through the murky windows and spotted a fair number of diners already inside. Glancing down the street she hesitated only a moment wondering if perhaps she should have let Madame Vastra know where it was she was going, but then she hardly thought she needed the lizard woman's approval to meet her husband for lunch. Assuming it was the Doctor of course who had left the message, but then who else would it have been?<p>

With a sigh, her decision made she entered the restaurant and picked a table at the far side of the room from where she had a clear view of the door and the other diners. She settled into the generous booth and waited hands clasped on the table, only half glancing at the small menu, her stomach was in knots as it was she honestly wasn't certain she could eat. Clearly the Doctor had rubbed off on her more than she'd realised because in mere minutes she was fighting boredom, and the desire not to think about what she would say to the Doctor if and when he showed up. So with little else to do she watched the other diners.

Clara felt unease tug her gut as she blinked and moved her eyes from one diner to another, her fingers pressing tightly together in her gripped hands as she noted the precise, almost timed movements of their bodies. Their rigid postures and the relative silence, there was no chatter of conversation, just the clink of china and metal. Clara cocked her head feeling adrenalin flood her system as she realised the diners weren't eating at all, just pretending to. _Should have known._ She mused to herself, wishing she had indeed told Vastra where it was she was heading, given the Doctor's talent for trouble, something he seemed to have shared with her, in hindsight it had been foolish not to.

Clara stood intending on quietly slipping out unnoticed as if she had merely changed her mind about eating. The other diners stood with her, turning to stare pointedly at her in eerie silence in a move far too 'mechanical' to be human. Clara hesitated stepping forwards, "You know suddenly, I'm just not feeling hungry anymore," one careful foot in front of the other, mirrored by the mechanical-seeming diners as they seemed to crowd her in, "so I'll just be..." she hesitated, staring from one blank face to another and she turned on her heel, just as slowly and made her way back to the booth, "sitting right back down to enjoy a fine meal I'm sure." She muttered, clutching the table tightly as the other diners turned as one and resumed their farcical meals.

"Well isn't this lovely." Clara murmured to herself more to calm her nerves than anything else as an equally stiff moving waiter appeared apparently to take her order. He produced a scanner of some sort and proceeded to list off a number of what she considered fairly key organs which she got the distinct impression might very shortly be on the menu. It was all giving her a very Sweeney Todd vibe; and whilst angry... _no_ furious, though she was at the Doctor she highly suspected he wouldn't have deliberately endangered her. _Well not again._ She thought uncharitably remembering their recent trip and the resulting aftermath, fortunately that line of thought was derailed by a set of metal bindings clamping down hard around her torso and legs, effectively pinning her to the booth as the table began to rise above her head. It took her a moment to realise the table wasn't moving but the whole booth she was sat on was in fact descending.

"Doctor!" she screamed, to hell with being mad at him as she pushed with every straining telepathic neurone she had developed through their bond, to make him hear her from wherever the hell he was sulking at. The trap door or whatever it was sealed over, plunging her into near darkness as she continued her descent into what she sincerely hoped turned out not to be an oven of some kind. She landed with a thunk that rattled her teeth at the bottom of the shaft and glanced around the dimly lit largely metallic, very circular room. There was someone, or something sat impassively in a metal chair... almost like a throne towards the centre of the room, their back was to her so she couldn't gain much from that. Her eyes were slow to adjust to the gloom but she spied several alcoves housing what at first glance seemed to be people... just very still, somewhat alarming looking people. More like the diners she assumed, mechanical. "Robot Sweeney Todd?" she reasoned quietly to herself, her eyes on the impassive seated figure in the middle of the room. "Hello?" she called out tentatively, quietly relieved when he didn't respond, didn't even flinch.

Glancing down at her current predicament Clara wasn't optimistic, she didn't have a sonic, which she was starting to consider a serious oversight in her decision to travel anywhere with the Doctor. He'd at least made himself a new one after she'd disposed of the laser one, perhaps if and when she survived this she'd add it to her shopping list. So she struggled against the bindings, the metal wouldn't budge and worse, the thing in the chair moved, its hands shooting out to grip the arms. _And it's waking up, perfect_. Clara panicked internally as she squirmed in the booth, as it stood and for the first time as she glanced up she got a good look at him. A Half-Faced man, she paused staring in mild horror and corrected herself, a Half-Faced robot. She was starting to suspect where he'd gotten that half a face from and it wasn't doing anything to calm her nerves as he unplugged himself from the chair and turned to look at her with that vacant stare.

"Afternoon." She called out. "Lovely spot for lunch. Care to tell me why you invited me here?" Trying to keep her tone deliberately light she continued apparently unaffected by the imminent danger as he stalked towards her. She thought the answer to her question was becoming obvious, but what was less obvious was why she'd been specifically targeted, who the hell would even know she was here? The Doctor had only been gone one night, surely even he couldn't piss someone off enough to get her targeted in just one night could he? She closed her eyes briefly in mild irritation; _of course he bloody could_.

The Half-Faced man stopped in front of her, its head cocked eerily in observation of her. "You were not invited."

"I really was." She smiled thinly back at him, a slow sinking sensation settling into her gut, the robot-man had no need to lie, which means that someone or something had sent her here and odds on it being the Doctor were getting slimmer every moment. Which also meant that unless he'd happened to look at a newspaper this morning and make a similar connection, then he wasn't going to swoop in to save the day. Which meant she had to act.

"So what is this, some sort of Sweeney Todd deal?" he was impassive and she glanced at his body, noticing that his hands were mismatched, "Or not..." she murmured, looking up to the face and the eyes, all too human eyes on a robotic frame, skin that looked real enough to touch stretched across half of his face. "Spare parts... your using people for spare parts, this whole restaurant is a front." She reasoned and he turned away. Clara jolted, it was important that she kept his attention, kept him talking, get him to find her useful anything to stop him doing to her what she suspected had probably happened to every other poor patron that had stepped through those doors.

"Maybe I can help you?" she called out to him and he stopped, and turned slowly back to face her with that vacant yet curious expression again. "I'm not from here. And I know a great deal about alien technology, I assume you're from another world. Are you trapped here, is that why you've resorted to this... to repairing yourself with whatever you can find?" He approached again and she tried not to flinch as his hand delved into his pocket and retrieved a scanner similar to the one the waiter held.

"Why did you kill the dinosaur?" she continued certain these things had been responsible for it somehow, ignoring the scan as he ran it over her entire body clearly trying to assess her use, and possibly her species.

"You are human." He announced and she almost smiled at the reaffirmation of that from a robot of all things. "Yet you are not. Explain the scan data." And there went that pleasant affirmation deflating her just as quickly.

"Tell me why you killed the dinosaur?" She asked again, "You answer my question I'll answer yours. That's how it works."

"We will not answer questions." It all but snapped and she realised for the first time that this thing was perhaps not entirely emotionless.

Clara realised there was little choice but to keep on the offensive, to keep it engaged. "How long have you been here, trapped on Earth, rebuilding yourselves? I mean look at the state of you, is there any of the real you left? What's the point?" she pressed, his predicament oddly sending a chill through her at the thought that one day this might be her, how long would she last, her body regenerating lost or damaged tissue, when would she be entirely gone, replaced every cell in her body 'renewed' by the Doctors tampering. Would she even still be Clara, much like the Doctor, could you still be you if every cell every atom in your body had been re-written?

"We will reach the promised land." His answer was resolute, but it was an odd response to her question and she paused.

"What's the promised land?"

"No more questions. You will die." He raised his hand and without fanfare wrenched off the limb to reveal a metallic contraption that he flared to life like a blowtorch, lowering it towards her with intent.

"I really won't." She snapped back an odd certainty in her answer that seemed to give him pause, the flame came agonisingly close to her face and she flinched her head away, the heat scalding, but she kept her gaze fixed resolutely on him.

"Are you not afraid? Most humans plead for their life." There was nowhere left to retreat and Clara stared back into his half-face, certain that he was almost taking a perverse kind of glee out of this, was he even a robot anymore... or more man now?

"I'm terrified." She admitted staring at the flame for the first time as he inched it closer to her face. "But go ahead, do your worst, but I'm warning you if you hurt me, the Doctor will find you and make sure that you never reach that Promised Land you've been searching all this time for."

"I killed an ancient beautiful creature for one inch of optic nerve" it gloated this time, "this Doctor of yours will accomplish nothing but his own death if he follows you here." The flame hit the skin of her throat and she let out a shriek of agony as it seared her flesh, if it had intended to harvest her body for spare parts then there was no sense in burning it, which meant he was hurting her to prove a point, or because it wanted to.

"You're sick." She grit out past the pain and she felt the heat blessedly retreat as he grasped her face roughly with his free hand, forcing her to see him, to look into the face of this monster. "You're more man than machine, all twisted up with the rot of human flesh, you have no idea why you go on do you...? Or why you're torturing me instead of simply harvesting the organs you need." If he could feel then perhaps he could be goaded she reasoned as the pain retreated and she felt relief as no doubt the all too new changes the Doctor had made to her cells went about repairing her.

The half-faced man blinked, his grip bruising on her face as she struggled against her restraints, desperate now to free herself before the monster in constant need of spare parts realised what he had on his hands... a realisation that had dawned on her all too quickly with no small amount of horror. He turned her head to the side and examined what she knew had to be the healed skin of her neck, before turning back to look at her intently.

"I answered your questions, you will answer mine." It insisted and Clara closed her eyes as his grip went around her windpipe which quite effectively stopped her from answering said questions, but she got the point and the threat just fine. "How to you repair without spare parts?"

Clara glared balefully back at him and he released his grip on her throat enough to talk. "Oh no big man, the time for questions and answers was before the blowtorch, before you realised you couldn't hurt me." She snarled.

He paused and she had only a moment to consider the foolishness of goading a clearly half mad robot before he drew his blowtorch back to her skin and caused her to shriek in agony again, not releasing her this time until she was almost unconscious the smell of burnt flesh assaulting her and causing her stomach to roil with the idea of what he was doing. It took longer to heal the more extensive damage but all too soon she felt the soft wash of the energy through her and the gut wrenching bite of the burns receded into nothingness.

The half-faced man waited patiently throughout, his ruin of a face inches from hers letting her see into the hollow inner workings of his fleshy shell. "You can be hurt." It pointed out and she blanched, unable to argue with the assessment, hurt yes permanently damaged, maybe not. "You will answer." It insisted and Clara sought desperately to pull herself free of her restraints, no longer concerned about damaging herself only eager to be free.

He grasped her chin firmly with one hand, stilling her movements with the threat of the blowtorch, this time he drew it closer to her eye and she couldn't help the tears that leaked free of her face. The idea that he could do this as long as he wanted, as many times as he wanted, she was the toy he couldn't break god help her. An infinite source of information that he could pry free with the threat of agonising pain. What choice did she have? "The Doctor did it." She gasped out and the blowtorch receded. "He made me this way." She added seeing the flicker of interest finally in her words, clearly his mechanical brain was considering the possibility that it could be done to him too, an infinite way to repair itself, no need to harvest spare parts from humans any longer.

"Where is this Doctor?"

Clara grimaced, it was the million dollar question. The man was probably still furious at being dismissed by her, despite his actions. She hoped and prayed he hadn't decided to take the human approach and drown his marital sorrows somewhere. The last she had seen he was investigating the dinosaurs spontaneous combustion. He would turn up here eventually, he had to, after all this was the answer he was looking for. "I don't know." She snapped, "But if I know my husband... and there's some debate about that right now; but I do know the Doctor, which means he'll be here, he'll find you."

"Good." It responded and threw her head away sharply, the shackles holding her retracted and she was suddenly free. It didn't take her body anywhere near as long as her brain to catch onto this fact and she was already out of her seat and running from the Half-Faced man like her life absolutely depended on it. She didn't get far, the more flesh like robots from the alcoves seemed to move as one, until she was encircled in the middle of the room, her eyes going frantically from one to the other as they raised their hands to reveal sharp sword like appendages. '_All the better to cut you up into pieces my dear_'. Hysteria set in as she spun trying to keep them in line of site as the Half-Face man sat down on the booth she had recently vacated.

"Harvest her until she gives out. I will await this Doctor." He hit a lever and the entire booth began to rise sharply back up the shaft to the restaurant it had come from. Clara saw her chance and darted forward, slamming hard against the robots and charging at the bottom of the booth, she jumped but her hands fell short skimming the bottom of it and leaving her sprawled in a heap on the floor as it rose steadily overhead, leaving her trapped down here. Thoroughly terrified she righted herself and tried to suppress the ingrained need to scream as the flesh-covered robots advanced on her, the sharp edges of the blades glinting menacingly. She honestly had no idea how long her body could regenerate limbs and organs for... how long she could withstand such torture, but one thing she was certain of, she'd loose her mind from agony long before her body gave out.

It gave her the strength to stand and she turned grabbing the closest thing she could find that looked metallic and weighty, a discarded piece of piping would have to do. "Ok then. You want me, come and get me!" she screamed at the advancing monsters charging full on into them and swinging her pipe hard until it connected, not caring where the blades went so long as they didn't pin her down or cause her grip on the pipe to waiver as she connected with soft flesh over hard metal. But it was pointless, her arms ached and her lungs heaved with the effort as she dropped one after the other in sheer adrenaline fuelled desperation, but it wasn't enough. They kept coming, kept on getting up. They weren't men, weren't alive... and there inner workings took a hell of licking and just seem to keep on ticking.

It was only a matter of time she realised dimly as she screamed, watching in horror as the hand that held the pipe was severed and fell with a thunk to the floor still gripping her only weapon tightly. Instinctively her eyes were drawn to her ruined stump as she felt energy tug from somewhere deep within her and it pooled with golden tendrils around her blooded wrist. If losing a limb was painful, apparently growing one back so quickly was agony. She fell to her knees as waves of it crashed over her and she cradled the offending arm to her chest as it reformed completely. Hands reached for her and she looked up into the expressionless faces of the long dead men and women who had suffered the same fate and prayed with every ounce of belief in her, for her husband. She didn't much care which version of him arrived, the Doctor or the Monster, just so long as he came for her, like he always did.


	20. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER TWENTY**

The booth rose and settled into position in the restaurant and the Half-Faced Man stood, turning to notice the only living, breathing occupant in a room full of deactivated robots. The Doctor grinned at him, lifting a glass of whiskey to his lips and appreciating the taste of alcohol for the first time in a number of regenerations as it burned down his throat.

"The restaurant is closed." The Half-faced man barked utterly unphased by his presence.

"Pity and it seemed such a fine establishment, what with all these rubbish barely functional robots, I take it the organ harvesting business has been some deluded attempt to repair them. You know you boys need to get a new idea, it didn't work before and it won't now." He took another sip of his whiskey and poured a second glass holding it out to the creature.

"What are you doing?" It asked, clearly confused by the gesture as it strode to one of the far walls the Doctor assumed concealed a control panel.

"Well you see I have this horrible feeling that I'm going to have to kill you. I thought you might appreciate a drink first." His smile was razor thin as he stared at him. The Half-faced man gave him a moments consideration before turning to pull a small lever exposing the control panel and causing the whole restaurant to shudder as the roof began to open. The Doctor looked up faintly impressed.

"So rubbish robot... you're from the Fifty First Century right? A time-travelling spaceship crashed in the past, you're trying to get home the long way round." He reasoned recalling vividly the unfortunate fates of the human crew of the SS Madame de Pompadour.

"I go to the Promised Land." It told him stiffly as the Doctor approached downing his whiskey and throwing the glass to shatter with satisfaction against the wall.

"So you say. So you've what turned your ship into a restaurant, patched it and you up with the spare parts stolen from the unwary diners you've lured into your honey pot. You're deluded, it will never fly." The Doctor assured him with a sneer.

The Half-faced man cocked his head. "You are the Doctor _she_ spoke of."

The Doctor felt every molecule of his body go rigid at those words, his lip ticked the only expression his face could manage as he felt his eyebrows draw together in fury as his hearts beat painfully hard in his chest and he reached out, lowering his mental barriers that he had slammed in place after so foolishly leaving his wife unattended in his rage. Her heartbeat stuttered and slammed into his mind and he reached further, pulling on every ounce of his mental abilities to reach out, looking for her. All he got back was pain, a jumble of incoherent thoughts and blinding white hot agony and despair.

The Doctor charged forward and grasped the robot by its lapels, every instinct in him roaring at him to do something... anything to find Clara. "_She_ said you would come." Its lips almost turned up into a smile and the Doctor felt fury like he'd never before allowed consume him.

"Where is she?" He bit out, rage turning his words into a near growl.

"She is being recycled, she will repair us indefinitely. We have no further use of this restaurant." And with that the whole room shook, taking them both off balance and causing the Doctor to lose his grip on him as they fell apart. The Doctor looked up in time to see the grotesque site of human skin woven into a giant patchwork of a balloon being ignited above his very head, as the clockwork mechanics of the room turned and the whole building lifted free, rising up into the air like a macabre kite. Utterly making a mockery of his declaration, because this restaurant was _indeed_ flying it would seem.

"You will assist us." The Half-faced man turned to him, eyeing him with all the understanding of a dung beetle. The Doctor closed his eyes, not suppressing his rage but letting it course through him until he opened them again on the robot.

"I am the Doctor; the Oncoming Storm, the Predator, the Valeyard. And you have my wife. I will assist you in one thing only... dying."

"How would you kill me?" the foolish creature asked, utterly failing to understand the hornets nest it had kicked, the monster it had unleashed in him. "I am not human, not alive to die... I will reach the promised land."

The Doctor smiled, it was a twisted thing and he saw a flicker of uncertainty in the robots lifeless eyes. "Oh I think you've been around long enough to know, there is no Promised Land. And if there were, I would never allow you to reach it." They charged at one another, the Doctor had no need of his screwdriver, he wrapped his own bare hands around the bastards throat, intending to tear his damn head off. The restaurant doors swung open and gave him a view over London as they grappled and he slammed the arm containing the blowtorch which had sprung to life away from his face.

"You are stronger than you look." The Half-Face man grumbled, trying and failing to shake him off.

"Oh you have no idea." The Doctor snarled.

"You could help me Doctor, help us. I have seen what you have done to the human woman, show us how to repair as she does and we will have no need of parts." Perhaps it thought it was appeasing his ego, perhaps it would have, had Clara's words not been on accusatory repeat inside his brain all night long. Now having this monster throw it back at him in the same way she had, was doing nothing to ease the white hot ball of rage inside of him, or the gnawing guilt that perhaps he had taken something precious from her after all.

The realisation made him want to lash out, and this thing was conveniently in his grasp. "I was going to throw you off this flying slaughterhouse to your death, but I've reconsidered." The Doctor growled reaching into his pocket and retrieving the laser screwdriver he'd forced the TARDIS to return to him. "Death is too good for you, and I did promise you'd never reach your Promised Land..."

* * *

><p>The robotic creatures tormenting her fell silent and Clara fell still alongside them, her body a quivering ball of liquid gold as the energy sought to repair the damage they had ruthlessly inflicted. She kept her eyes firmly closed not willing to see the pieces of her that littered the floor all around; or the parts they'd already begun to appropriate and store away. All she cared about was that they'd stopped and she was breathing without pain.<p>

Hands came down on her shoulders and she screamed, thrashing wildly. "Clara, Clara, shhhh." His voice, that deep Scottish timbre was enough to send her scuttling into the recesses of her mind in abject horror. If he was here, then it was real, if he was holding her then she'd survived it... and she wasn't so sure she should have. She reached out and clung to him desperately, searching for the comforting solidness of him against her.

"You're ok, it's ok, I've got you." He whispered and she could feel his trembling hands in her hair, tracing along her face, holding her close as he lifted her almost effortlessly into his arms. "Keep your eyes shut my love." He whispered against her temple, understanding what she had known instinctively; that she simply couldn't see it. _Shouldn't._ "They're gone I promise, _he's_ gone. You're going to be ok, I've got you." He mumbled pointless comforting words against her hair as he walked, keeping her pressed tightly to him, until his fingers slid more intently to her temple and she felt the insistent push of his mind. Perhaps she should have fought harder, put up a block, but right now she agreed with him, the best thing for her was to be unconscious; so she let him in, let him make it all go away for now.

* * *

><p>Clara awoke in a large bed, in a mostly unfamiliar house to the alien sounds and smells of what she realised was still Victorian London. Slowly she sat up and carefully examined the two hands in front of her, shoving aside the bed clothes she took in the expanse of two fully formed legs and feet, blinking her eyes which were working perfectly as she ran her tongue along her mouth, testing. Her hands drifted as she examined every inch of herself beneath the voluminous white nightgown, checking, making certain. There was a large mirror in the room and she stood on perfectly stable legs in front of it removing the overdone Victorian nightgown to stand naked. There wasn't a mark on her to show for the horrors she'd experienced. <em>Nothing<em>. It left her feeling oddly void and without a sense of closure, how could you heal mentally from something if there was no proof it even happened?

There was a soft knock on the door and Clara responded her eyes still on the mirror. Madam Vastra entered the room and paused at what Clara realised was the obvious sight of her naked. But the lizard woman wasn't human, and she clearly assumed that if Clara had called her into the room in this state then she was perfectly fine with her seeing this, and so her eyes didn't lower and she didn't stammer out an apology. Instead she merely closed the door and came to stand beside her, observing through the mirror much as Clara had.

"It is a remarkable." Vastra offered quietly her eyes tracing over the flawless skin, not bothering to ask her how she 'was' because the woman was astute enough to know the answer wouldn't be helpful to either of them, denial was safer. "I must confess when the Doctor called us to dispose of the remaining evidence of the robots presence we found the chamber you were held in. What they had done. I can scarcely believe you are standing her before me, unblemished by the experience." Clara imagined the state she had been in, the clothes that had been shredded and blood soaked, she wondered if Vastra or the Doctor had been the ones to bathe her and dress her, although she suspected the latter.

But Clara found herself snorting derisively at Vastra's assessment, half in self pity and half in exasperation. "I'm hardly unblemished Vastra, I'm afraid the damage is just up here... far more dangerous." She replied tapping her forehead. "A human being shouldn't be expected to live through something like that."

Madam Vastra sighed. "But live you have and shall." She replied, again the difference in her alienness at the fore, clearly the lizard believed that living was the important thing, not how scarred you were from it. "I am however profoundly sorry that it has caused you such distress."

_Distress_, Clara thought the word fitting, but she had a more pressing concern, there had been one obvious thing missing when she had awoken. "Where is he?" Clara turned staring Vastra in the eye and noting that the lizard woman took the opportunity to scan her eyes down the new view of the expanse of flesh on offer for a brief moment quite unapologetically.

When her gaze returned to her face Vastra's expression grew pinched, clearly she disapproved of the Doctors actions, Clara herself had expected to wake and find him sat at her bedside. "He did not feel he was welcome in your bedroom, or in your presence. Not until he had an explicit invitation it would seem." Clara absorbed that quietly with a nod as she turned to the wardrobe, opening it to the vast array of Victorian outfits that seemed to have been procured for her. "He stayed with you through the night, to ensure that you were physically well." Vastra added, her voice with a hint of something like fondness in it. "Will you be inviting him back?" Vastra pressed when she didn't respond and began pulling a dress out of the wardrobe.

"Is the TARDIS still here?" Clara asked pointedly.

"No, but he left your telephone with us, he asked that you call him when you were ready to begin to forgive him." Vastra winced at the words, clearly she thought the chances of that were currently slim given Clara's disposition.

Clara nodded, "Madame Vastra," she turned to look at the lizard woman, "If I chose to perhaps stay here a little longer, would that be an imposition?"

Vastra looked mildly taken aback, but her face settled into something closer to grim acceptance. "Of course my dear, you are most welcome here, always, you know that."

"Thank you." Clara replied, "Would you mind," she glanced at the door pointedly, "I think I'd like to dress and perhaps make myself more presentable." Vastra glanced once more at her nakedness and smiled admiringly.

"Oh my dear, I assure you there is no one in this house that would protest your current state of undress should you chose to grace us with it again." With that last parting remark she left and Clara stared at the closed door with something almost close to a smirk on her own face, it was almost refreshing not to be coddled after something so traumatic, to be actively flirted with for the body that had been so damaged so recently, but then Madame Vastra was always full of surprises. Although the idea of Strax seeing her like this wiped the smirk right of her face and she hurriedly slipped into her gown, deliberately choosing one as different from the one she'd worn when _it_ had all happened to her as she could find, and something with a lower collar, she couldn't stand the constriction of it right now.

Her eyes were drawn to a chair that had been placed close to the right side of her bed and had obviously held the Doctor, her mobile phone was indeed sat on the nightstand as promised. Crossing to it Clara hesitated, she wanted to call him, _needed_ to call him. In fact the very idea that he had come for her just as she'd known he would, had comforted her through the night and yet left her just as she'd insisted he should was perhaps the most selfless thing she'd seen this version of him do. Because she knew, _knew_, just what it must have cost him to leave her, to not try and explain himself, to plead her forgiveness in person, to kiss her, hold her and comfort himself that she was in fact still alive and well. But he had done it to honour her last parting words to him. Clearly he'd come to some sort of realisation about just what he had inflicted upon her, although she rather wished the point hadn't been made so bluntly for them both. She shuddered at the memory noticing the way her hands shook and pushed the thoughts and images away, certain she'd have plenty of time to relive them and refusing for it to be now.

Clara brushed her hand over the seat he'd clearly sat in to keep his vigil, imagining his furrowed brow, his heavy eyebrows drawn together in concern as his steel blue eyes remained fixed on her sleeping form. She wanted him to come back. Wanted him to take her in his arms and kiss her soundly, drive the memories and the doubts out of her mind at least whilst he held her. But she left the phone where it was. The Doctor had offered her something she doubted he offered anyone; time away from him at his own expense, time to decide what she wanted without his ever present push. Time to decide if she could really live the way he had forced her to, with him.

* * *

><p>Her days were easy, whilst Madame Vastra's life wasn't the Doctors she imagined it was the closest a humanlizard woman could come to emulating it. Scotland Yard called for her to consult on a case without fail every few days and they were more than gracious in trying to accommodate her into their lives. To give her a purpose or a task to fulfil her whilst she tried not to think about the Doctor or to relive the memories of that God awful round metal room. Of course they never pushed, or pried and she could understand why the previous Doctor had found it so easy to settle here and simply sulk and grieve away his days with their quiet unwavering support.

Her nights on the other hand were more difficult. The nightmares were always the same, so vivid that she'd wake screaming, shaking and soaked from head to toe in her own terror; until one night she didn't. In fact the dream had started as always, it held her in its grip then quite simply released her, flowing into something more gentle, the dark pain-filled images sinking somewhere deep within her out of reach. Perhaps someone that hadn't lived her life would have simply taken that for the gift it was, but then they hadn't lived with the shadow of the Doctor in their mind, her eyes opened and she stared at the seat that wasn't quite in the same position it had been when she'd fallen asleep. Closing her eyes she breathed in deeply and felt the beginnings of a smile lift her features as she detected the feint scent that was all him, like fresh water and pinewood with a smoky hint of something darker, deeper.

He had been here, and as always he had tried to help her, chasing her demons away whilst she slept. Clara glanced once more at her mobile phone which sat untouched gathering dust on the nightstand. _Not yet._

It became their ritual, he would come at night to ease her dreams whilst she slept and when she woke she would steadfastly refuse to call him whilst utterly relishing the lingering trace of him and the comfort it bought her.

Until one day she decided to repay the favour perhaps, to let him know that she appreciated his visits. She pulled the chair he always chose close to her bedside and placed a glass of Vastra's good whiskey on the bedside table next to it; the Great Detective had apparently noted that they appeared to have a late night drinker who had been pilfering her stocks. It hadn't taken any of them long to figure out who. It was just her little way of saying _I know_ to him.

That night her dreams were more poignant, tender even, once the nightmares had been dispelled and she awoke with the taste of whiskey on her lips. Her fingers rose to brush them and she closed her eyes sighing gently at the ache in her heart for the man who's scent till lingered in the room almost enveloping her like a comforting blanket. Perhaps it was insane to draw comfort from a man that sent your emotions tail-spinning but she couldn't help it, it was like she was addicted to him, like nothing he could do or say could ever stop the ache in her chest that was only quiet when he was near. A part of her hoped it was just some particularly alien effect of their marriage bonding, he'd always said there were consequences to unravelling it, she knew some of them, although not all she suspected. But a larger part of her suspected this was entirely her own doing; she might not have to like the fact that she needed and craved the man that could hurt her more than anyone else, but she did have to accept it. He had also left her gift she noted, her eyes drawn to the object left on the centre of the seat, her fingers reached out and curled around the familiar smooth metal, it was _her_ sonic, not just identical to the one she had lost to UNIT back on Earth, but the actual one, she was certain of it as she held it up and traced every contour. How many hours had she spent examining this small metal object, her one connection to the Doctor through their separation whilst he lived alone on Trenzalore. The item that might well have helped her save herself that day in the Half-Faced mans chamber of horrors. Clara closed her eyes. He always knew what she needed, it shouldn't have been possible. _Impossible man_.

So out of some need to connect with him, to let him know she still loved him even if she wasn't ready to see him yet Clara began to leave other things for him as well as the whiskey. A particular newspaper article she thought would amuse him; a case file that they needed assistance with, a particularly beautiful monocle she'd come across who's rather less than human owner had claimed it would be able to 'see through walls', given the right level of tweaking. She even left the newspaper advert that had called the 'Impossible Girl' to lunch at the dreaded restaurant, certain now it hadn't been him but wanting him to know all the same that someone or something had tried to draw them both there that day. One night she simply left a note in her own neat modern script that had nothing of Vastra's romanticism but the message was clear she hoped. _'I love you. Soon.'_

His patience, his sheer thoughtfulness as he diligently cared for her from afar was more touching than anything she had ever experienced, perhaps she had been wrong. Or perhaps this had been the wakeup call _this_ version of him needed. Either way, that night as she lay down to sleep, she remained purposefully wide awake, wondering if he would still come, because he would know the moment he entered the room, maybe even the building, that she wasn't asleep.

The sound of her window lifting was light, had she not been so attuned to any sound in her room she perhaps would have dismissed it, certainly had she been asleep it wouldn't have disturbed her. She listened to the soft tread of his booted feet across the room, as stealthy as any seasoned criminal as he approached her bed and she fought to stay still, to keep her breathing even and her mental walls in place. He paused at the end of the bed, his fingers brushing across the metal brass railings as he traced around it until he came to his seat. The nightstand and chair suspiciously empty tonight.

She felt him hesitate, could almost feel the heat of his stare burning into her, his mental walls were down, utterly shattered she realised as she fought to hold back the desperate desire to reach for him to hold him together as he had held her. The sound of leather creaking almost startled her as he settled into the seat beside her bed and fell still.

Clara felt him lean closer to her face, until his head was almost on the pillow beside her, his warm breath fluttering across her lips. The temptation was too great and Clara opened her eyes onto his, not surprised in the least to find him there, his gaze was open and even, _waiting_. Clara lifted her hand and brought it to his face, brushing gently across the stubbled cheeks and the distinctly careworn features. He looked tired, so tired she realised with unease. Her fingers dropped to his lips and she brushed her thumb over them, his eyes fluttered closed and he instinctively leant into her touch, like it was a soothing balm.

"I've missed you." She whispered and his eyes shot open onto hers, the depth of pain and sorrow in them enough to make her chest ache afresh. But he didn't say a word and he didn't reach for her, letting this moment be hers to decide. Clara leant forward and closed the distance between their lips, brushing them feather-light with her own and surprised at the tremble to his. She pulled back, her eyes taking in his features, the near desperation she could feel building to the surface within him curbed by the very real fear that he couldn't cope with this touch, this feel of her, if she were to send him away again. "Shhh." She soothed, brushing his temple and he obligingly closed off the connection, his eyes fluttering shut again at her touch.

"You hurt me." She told him softly, letting the pain of those three simple words permeate them both. "And what you did to me, let _him_ hurt me." She didn't need to elaborate further he got both her points just fine.

He opened his eyes and very slowly lifted his head from its position beside her and slid back into the armchair, sitting there carefully and oh so still. "I never meant..." she cut off his apology, or excuse whichever was inevitably coming with a frustrated wave of her hand as she too sat up on the bed, turning to face him with her legs dangling off the edge and brushing his covered calves with her bare ones.

"That night here, before you... _left._" He quirked an eyebrow at her choice of words but remained looking oddly contrite which was a new look for him and one she absorbed quietly, perhaps a better phrase would have been _'before you were kicked out'_, but she bit her tongue on it. "I never want you to touch me like that again."

His eyes widened a fraction and his mouth opened, then shut abruptly, she could see the warring emotions on his face, the way his eyebrows drew in with his desperate need to argue or explain, just something, so she lifted one of her more perfectly arched ones inviting him to say something. "You enjoyed it." Was all he managed to bite out despite whatever else was roiling around inside of him, but it wasn't said with smug satisfaction just bewilderment, which she supposed she could understand, after all he wasn't wrong.

"Yes I know." She replied, fisting the sheets in her hand without realising it as she held onto the tension rather than let this turn into a row neither of them needed. "Which is exactly why it will _never_ happen again." Her expression was resolute and she saw her words settle deeply inside of him as he nodded his lips pressing into a grim line. "We aren't that, I won't let us become _that_." She added wanting to make it perfectly clear, setting it as a concrete line in the sand between them.

"You know I'll do anything you need."

"So I'm gathering." Clara replied, only half buying the contrition he was throwing at her now, but the way he looked, so rumpled and dishevelled it tugged at her heart strings and her pride, the man needed her it had never been more evident.

"Someone tried to get me killed." She told him pointedly, seeing the flash in his eyes at the thought which she didn't want to examine further for now. "I was setup."

"We." He corrected, fisting his hands on his knees. "We were setup. I was supposed to get that little message too. The fact that I was a little too preoccupied at the time to keep up with current events not withstanding."

She opened her mouth to ask who and he sighed, "I'm looking into it." He stopped her from needing to say a word. She considered asking about the Half-Faced man, about what had happened to him, and decided that in this instance that perhaps ignorance was bliss. He'd said he'd taken care of it... she believed that; she didn't need to know exactly what it meant, the dark thoughts swirling through his mind at just the memory of the events were enough to warn her off.

"Thank you." She offered.

"For what?" he hissed in clear exasperation, clearly she'd not been the only one to blame him for all of this.

"Helping with the nightmares." She offered and he clearly dismissed it with a huff for the trifling thing he considered it to be. But it wasn't to her, in fact it was the reason she was standing here talking to him now, the way he'd been these past weeks... that had become a month, then two. The space he had voluntarily given her without needing to be reminded. God help her she loved this grumpy, dishevelled, salt and pepper sprinkled version of him. Keeping that in the forefront of her mind in case he chose to look for it, Clara stood leaning forward until she was standing between his parted legs forcing him to look up at her as his hands tightened on the armrests. She knew he wanted to touch her, but he held himself back with admirable restraint, in case he somehow broke the spell she was weaving by letting him back through the door.

Clara leant forward, her hair falling like a curtain over their faces as she brushed his lips with hers not quite kissing him. "My Doctor." Clara breathed against his lips hearing the way his name in her voice caused his breath to hitch and his heartbeats to spark. Her hand travelled his jaw and brushed into his silver hair, the softness of it sending her own eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she simply enjoyed the touch of him beneath her fingertips. She opened her eyes onto his as he stared up longingly at her, the plea on his features, the twist of his true apology reaching her mind and she gently nudged his legs together with hers, before gracefully sliding her knees either side of his waist where he sat until she was straddling him on the chair, his hands remaining exactly where they were. Clara lifted her hands to his face, holding his gaze as he struggled to draw in one strangled breath after another, his lips pinched with his desire not to speak, to not ruin this moment for anything.

Clara leant forward and captured his lips fully, holding him in place as she sucked his bottom lip gently, requesting access. He took a breath and all but jolted when her tongue touched his as she sought out the taste of him she craved. Her eyes shut and she focused on the feel of his soft wet mouth beneath her, the slow response from him as he made an effort to keep her pace, to not simply devour her mouth as he was so prone to. Clara pulled away lightly opening her eyes and meeting his slightly clouded ones, "I can't say I forgive you, for what you took from me." She whispered and his expression darkened, "Not yet... but I will." She admitted, her fingers rising to his face as she traced every emotion that flickered across his features as he tried to absorb that, because she meant it, she knew she wouldn't be able to hold onto her anger forever, hell if he'd asked maybe she'd have voluntarily come to the same decision as he'd made. It was the 'not asking' that had landed them in this predicament, his inability to trust her to make the decision. But there was no point denying that she wouldn't one day be ok with it, if nothing else he'd certainly given her the capacity to let time heal this particular wound. It also didn't help with the deep seated ache in her chest at the thought of him alone without her, or her without him. "But I need you." She added quietly. "I want you." She murmured, lowering her head to his neck and kissing the stubbled skin she found there.

"Clara." He rasped and she raised a finger to his lips, silencing him as she stared intently back before slowly lowering her hand down his chest to his waist. He was barely breathing she noted as she kept their gazes locked and deftly unzipped him, reaching inside to pull out his already half hard length. Her fingers curled around him and his body went rigid.

"Let me." She insisted and his fingers gripped the armrest so hard that she was sure his nails would have left an impression as she slowly caressed him. Clara leant in kissing him again, pleased when he responded more firmly, his restraint truly impressive as he sought out as much of her mouth as she had his, letting her know how deeply he loved her with just that touch. He grew hard in her hand and she lifted aside her extensive nightgown, lowering herself until he brushed her centre. His mouth went slack against her and she found his eyes, holding them on hers as she lowered herself over him. The feel of him as he slid deep into her, so right, filling her as perfectly until she felt truly part of him, was as exquisite as always. More so now as she watched the way his entire body shuddered with the feel of her, his nails finally breaking through the leather armrests he gripped as he shook to hold his composure.

Clara moved gently against him, rolling her hips and admiring the way his head fell forward rather than back until it was against her covered chest, the Victorian nightgown pretty much covering every inch of her, apart from where it mattered as she tensed around him deliberately, drawing an appreciative groan from him. "Hold me." She asked gently and his hands rose almost hesitantly to her waist, resting lightly as she moved before rising up as he enveloped her in them, holding her chest tightly against his own until she could feel his hearts pressed against her one. Clara closed her eyes giving herself over to the feeling of this, of him as she moved over him as they surrendered to each other this time. She held his head against her chest as his breathing grew harsh, her fingers tugging lightly in his hair as she felt the rise of her own pleasure like a wave. She came quietly against him, feeling the flex of his fingers against her covered back as he pulled her closer and she increased her pace as he began to gently thrust upwards until he found his own release with a soft cry against her. They fell still as Clara's hands stroked through his hair, holding him close, unwilling to relinquish him just yet.

"Come home." He rasped raising his head to plead with her directly.

Clara sighed, lifting up off him and settling back down over his lap, her arms lowering to his face once more. "Soon." She apologised seeing the way it hit him hard, but he was almost resigned to it, certainly not surprised by her decision.

"When? Please, just..." he tried and she lowered her head to kiss him soundly.

"I..." She tried, feeling her resolve wavering, not even certain anymore that distance from him was what she needed, because it was certainly not what she wanted. But there was something to be said for space, she was certainly clearer headed, but _him?_ She suspected the whiskey he drank at nights whilst he watched over her was just the tip of the iceberg, she was healing, but he was breaking.

Her mobile phone rang, the sound startling them both as they turned their heads as one to look at it whilst it vibrated towards the edge of the nightstand. Clara hesitated, wondering who the hell could be calling her, she hadn't got much of a life left outside of the Doctor, she'd left her family her world behind her for him and everyone else she cared about was currently in this house. She grabbed it before he could, leaning over him from their still somewhat precarious position and glanced at the number.

"It's you?" she looked down at him in mild surprise, seeing the TARDIS number. His eyes took in the number then fell back on her wary expression.

"You should answer it. It might be your husband."

The way he said it gave her pause and she lifted her other hand to his cheek, stroking it fondly. "My husband's right here." She reminded him sitting back carefully on his lap as she hit the answer button and raised the handset to her ear.

"Hello?" she asked expectantly into the receiver.

There was a rattle of breath and a voice that made her heart ache afresh, "It's me." He sounded pained and she closed her eyes, imagining what he looked like when he was speaking. How he would have cradled the phone; her Bow-Tie Doctor.

"I know." She replied softly, almost hearing his answering smile and hearing the way her own voice shook with the emotion this precious moment brought, however painful it was.

"I'm calling you from Trenzalore." He added and she sucked in a breath her suspicions confirmed as to his current state and she clutched the phone a little tighter, surprised when the current Doctor's hands beneath her rose to her hips and held her lightly, offering support without trying to pull her out of the moment.

"You're dying." She told him hearing the way the words stuck in her throat, it was still a grief all too fresh for her; one she never really had the chance to gain closure over and perhaps never would. She recalled in her foggy memories the moments before his regeneration that she'd found the telephone box open and the receiver hanging down. It was almost a message beyond the grave and it brought tears to her eyes to think that in his last moments he had chosen to spend precious breath trying to make sure she was ok, that she'd survive it, survive _him_.

"Won't be long now." His broken voice murmured, but she could hear the smile in it that he was speaking with her now. "He's coming, I can feel him." He whispered and she felt the Doctor's fingers tighten around her hips but as she stared back down at him she realised he was utterly unaware of the tension he was radiating.

"Not that this isn't a gift I had no hope of expecting, but why are you calling?" she asked gently, knowing he knew better than to risk a paradox, but knowing full well why he had to, but she needed to hear it. Needed to remember how much he cared.

He sighed, "Tell me you're ok?" he pleaded, "Are you still with him?"

Clara raised her hand to the faintly lined face in front of her, to his pursed lips and the frown of his brow. "Yes my love. I'm fine." She offered quietly, knowing that both of them needed to hear it, and realising that right here and now in this moment she had an opportunity to shape her own future. To alter the frame of mind he went into this regeneration in, to give him hope. "And of course I'm still with him, with you... I promised didn't I?" she smiled despite herself and the overwhelming sadness she felt at the idea of getting this chance to speak to him again, the man who had stolen her heart and never intended on giving it back. _Thief._

He let out a relieved sounding laugh; that was more pained than anything else, as he actually rattled a breath out. "Tell me that he's still the Doctor; that it worked?" the desperate tone to his voice had the smile sliding off her face as she stared at the piercing blue stare of the man beneath her, who was able to hear every word they were speaking. As eager for her answer as the man on the phone, it was strange and touching to have both her husband's so desperate to make sure she was safe, that she would still love them.

"He's still the Doctor." She told him firmly, not breaking their gaze, driving the words into him. "And he's magnificent." She promised them both, stroking her fingers across the feint curve of his lips as he drew in her words and seemed to at least on some level accept them.

"Good." Her Bow-Tied Doctor rasped, "That's good." He sighed and she could hear the way he had collapsed against a bulkhead in his beloved TARDIS, but she could feel the answering smile on his lips through his voice.

"I love you." She told him softly, feeling tears slide down her cheeks unbidden as she felt her own lips curve up.

"Always." He sighed, "My Clara."

The line went dead and she let the phone fall heavily into her lap, staring down at it in quiet shock. "Thank you." She managed looking up into the stoic features of the man utterly still beneath her, even his hands had fallen away from her as if he'd realised his hold on her had been almost painful.

"For what?" he rasped, his voice sounding almost as rough as hers and she wondered if he was still mourning his previous self too.

"For phoning," she admitted.

He nodded. "You realise that I remember that call... every word, that if you'd hoped maybe to change anything, it was always the same call, the same words I received." He managed, but the words were pained, like he was pulling them from some place dark inside of him, wanting to be honest with her even if it hurt them both.

Clara nodded, turning and replacing the phone gently on the nightstand and turning back to him, her hands went to his which were fisted once more against the armrests as she traced her fingers along the backs, forcing them to relax and turning them over so she could slide her fingers into his, interlocking them.

"I know." She replied quietly, "I told him the truth." She squeezed his fingers and felt the distinct length of him beneath her growing again in response to her words. "And you both needed to hear it." She rolled her hips and without much effort he slid back into her gasping almost in surprise at her actions. Clara smiled gently back at him. "Make love to me." She asked drawing his hands up to her body and placing them firmly around her curves, letting him take the initiative as his fingers fluttered across her covered skin. His hands moved and she lifted her arms letting him divest her of the voluminous white nightgown until she was naked over him and she continued her movements rocking their pelvises together. The Doctor grasped her firmly, lifting her and himself in one fluid movement whilst maintaining their contact and dropping them both heavily onto the bed. His hands went to her ass, gliding along her thighs until he could wrap them firmly around his waist as he thrust firmly into her; giving her what she'd asked for as his lips took hers.

There were no words, their rarely were for them like this, she preferred it that way as his movements and his touch said all they needed to as he worshipped every inch of her body. His hands tracing the flawless outline of her skin as if checking for himself she was indeed whole. Clara pushed away the memories his careful touch brought, focusing instead on the adoration in them, the awe as his lips traced patterns. Driving away thoughts of leaving him, of leaving _this_ for now. It was impossible to feel so right, so wanted and needed, comforted in his arms and argue the notion that she could give it up somehow; that this wasn't where she belonged. But she still needed time and she knew he'd give it to her, he always had.

Her hands tried to divest him of his clothing, longing to feel the touch of his skin against hers but he resisted, unable to tear himself away from her skin long enough to let her get at his. He wrapped his arms around her from behind as she curled against him, holding her as close as he could possibly manage as he entered her again, slowly languidly, his fingers dropping between her legs to bring her every ounce of pleasure he could. There would be time she knew to talk about what had happened to her... if she ever felt the need; but he had seen the aftermath, seen what his actions had wrought, the stark consequence and he had done everything in his power to save her from it. What more was there to say? She loved him, and she knew he loved her with every fibre of his being; his love for her would burn entire star systems, and one day it would have reduced her fragile human self to ashes. Love drove him, possessed him, and as she sank into his embrace; she knew it ruled her too, for better or worse, she was his and he was hers and that was exactly as it should be. Everything else they'd just have to figure out as they went.


	21. Chapter 21

**Authors Note: This chapter contains spoilers for the official Doctor Who novel 'Silhoutte' by Justin Richards which features the 12****th**** Doctor and Clara in Victorian London. I have attempted to avoid any major spoilers or events in it but just in case (anything revealed in the blurb was fair dibs though). I have included it here because it happened to fit in line with my current AU narrative beautifully. I've also updated a little early as someone requested so nicely (normally as stated before this will continue to be updated on a 2weekly schedule hopefully). Thank you for all your reviews, I'm glad people felt so strongly about the last Chapter, that phone call scene was probably my favourite so far to write. Thanks also to the new viewers for catching up and leaving per/chapter reviews, nice to know people are still enjoying it from start to this point.**

**Also in this Chapter I've given my two cents on the TARDIS key question that people seemed to have such issue with in the S8 Dark Water episode and answered it as far as my understanding went – which was that when they snapped their fingers to open the TARDIS doors that was only possible because they had a key on them, it is a telepathic machine after all (the doctor keeps one hanging round his neck, Clara keeps hers... wherever, probably a keyring). As such destroying all the keys really would lock him out of his box as the connection would be severed between key holder and TARDIS. Anyway... onto the story.**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER TWENTY ONE<strong>

The Doctor was gone when she awoke the next morning the scent of him on the sheets and on her and she closed her eyes trying to hold on to it a little longer as the bright morning sunlight streamed through the curtains. But he had gone, she'd half expected to awake and find herself in their bed on the TARDIS or under blankets on some far flung world. So occasionally the Doctor listened. _Would wonders never cease._

She glanced at the chair and noticed the small box sat neatly on top of a note. Hesitating only for a moment she reached for the note first, recognising his elegant scrawl which didn't seem to change no matter what face he wore, as if he deliberately fought to keep that one aspect of himself the same, even if he had to fight his own often very different dexterity to do so.

_"My Clara. If you are to remain here then I ask only that you wear this so that I may hold onto the hope that our marriage endures."_

Clara frowned at the letter, the man was nothing if not dramatic, but clearly this 'space' he was offering her was coming at something of a heavy cost to his sanity. Hesitantly she opened the small box and stared at what was clearly meant to be the wedding ring she'd never received; it hadn't been a part of their ceremony after all, Time Lords had never needed anything so 'obvious'. But then there were no more Time Lords but him and she was here alone, technically 'separated' from him. She supposed it made sense for him to want to show an obvious claim to her, something that the human beings she was going to be around could recognise. Clara reached out and touched the metal, withdrawing her hand sharply as the metal sent a telepathic sting back and she frowned examining it more closely as she lifted the box to her eye line her eyes widening with mild horror and no small amount of admiration. The impossible man had found a way to turn the TARDIS key into _this_. Clara dropped it into the palm of her hand feeling the glimmer of power in it, her hand went to her chest to where her own key normally hung and realised with some concern that it was gone the chain hung empty, glancing down at the small metal circlet on her skin she wondered if this one would still function as a key, so long as the key had been on her person he or she had been able to open it with a mere snap of their fingers, would this be the same, the metal and the signal all that was important, the key itself nothing more than a symbol? She was certain it would, he wasn't going to leave her without a way to return to him; this damn thing could probably summon and track just like the key as well.

Clara pulled out the now empty chain that used to hold the key and slipped the ring onto it, before closing the lid and tucking the note away from prying eyes, namely Vastra's and realising that she was probably going to have to dispose of the box somewhere outside of the house. It was a compromise she supposed, she was 'wearing' his ring, just not quite where he'd intended her to, she thought given the current state of their relationship it was concession enough on her part and it hung between her breasts like a secret between lovers, thrilling and concerning her in equal measure.

So she went about life at 13 Paternoster Row as though she wasn't waiting for the Wednesday nights when the Doctor would visit her. He made no comment about the ring, but she saw him note her empty fingers with a slight tick of something she didn't care to guess at, so she'd deliberately let the chain hang loose of her top with no apology, not removing it for any reason even when they made love and he seemed to accept that for now, all be it wordlessly. Taking care to ensure she'd noted the matching band he was wearing proudly on his own left hand, a declaration it seemed that whilst she might not have been ready to claim him publically just yet, she had apparently never left his side.

The Detective work was fun, if hardly challenging, or as big league as she'd come to expect. Robbers and murderers; but on occasion something 'otherworldly' would crop up and inevitably attract Madame Vastra's attention, or that of one of her seemingly endless stream of informants. Jenny had even taken to instructing her in the fine art of swordplay, which oddly enough balanced Strax's obsession with ensuring she could build a bomb out of just about anything. It was after one particularly hairy case in which she'd put those bomb making skills to the test and was enjoying a celebratory glass of wine with them that the door bell rang. Strax disappeared like the good butler he could be on occasion and returned with a rather sheepish looking Doctor, who had even obtained a top hat for the occasion it seemed as he took it from his head and looked at them all before his gaze settled on her.

'_He was early and it wasn't Wednesday'_ was the first thought she managed, after realising Victorian outfits really did something for his physique. "Vastra, Jenny." He nodded to each of them in turn, "Do forgive the intrusion, I was hoping I might have a moment with my wife."

Clara placed her glass of wine down carefully and approached him, surprised when he put out his arm and she wrapped hers in it as he walked her slowly towards the door. Given as he only ever visited her in the bedroom she was a little surprised. "Are we going somewhere?" she asked lightly.

He sighed, turning to gaze down at her and reminding her just how tall he was. "I was hoping you'd accompany me to dinner?" The invitation startled her still recovering psyche slightly, the last time she'd thought he'd invited her to dinner she'd been on the menu. But she squashed the memories, feeling his fingers brush gently across hers in acknowledgement of how well she was doing with that just fine.

Clara forced a smile that quickly became genuine at the softening in his eyes as it flickered across her lips, "Are you asking for a date Doctor?" she almost teased, but he was deadly serious so she curbed it into something more innocent.

He leant forward and brushed his lips gently over hers, the hint of a promise in it. "My nights with you are as fulfilling as ever my Love, but I want more, I want what we had. Dinner is a start."

Clara paused, pulling back from his kiss and wondering if she was ready for that yet, ready to let him back into her life like this. It was a bold move from him, more like the him before they'd come to Victorian London, the him that insisted not asked, but as she felt the tension beginning to pool between them and she examined the still slightly haggard look to his features she felt her resolution crumble. Her husband was suffering, he needed her, needed _this_ he'd always wanted more from them, wanted what she'd had with his predecessor and she'd rarely given it to him. Hesitantly hoping she wouldn't regret it she nodded slightly in ascent, wrapping her fingers more tightly over his as he drew her in closer until she was wrapped lightly in his clearly relieved embrace as he led them out of the house and to a waiting carriage he seemed to have aquired, she glanced back once at Strax who had appeared in the doorway and stood there with a half grin on his face waving them off.

There date had been exactly that, a _date_. Romantic, quiet, just the two of them with no distractions, no life threatening events and it blessedly wasn't Italian, she wasn't sure she'd ever quite work up the courage to voluntarily walk into another Italian restaurant after what had happened to her in the last one. Staring at him across the flickering candlelight a glass of red wine in hand, she was taken back at how at ease he seemed, his fingers playing gently with hers across the table cloth as he told her about the Planet of Shrubs. His harsh accent softening as it rumbled over her and she brushed her foot along his calf absentmindedly, merely enjoying the easy contact and his presence.

"Don't be a tease." He murmured breaking her distraction, she had been so absorbed in his voice, his face alight with enthusiasm as he talked that she hadn't noticed he'd paused to change the topic.

"Oh?" she asked genuinely confused.

He brushed his own leg along hers and she looked down with a smile. "Ah, I'm sorry I didn't realise that constituted flirting." She sassed him, genuinely bemused.

"We're in Victorian London my dear, the way I'm holding your hand like this in public is practically indecent." He chuckled stroking her fingers with deliberately provocative intent that had her smirking.

"If only they could read your mind. You'd scandalise an entire generation." She laughed back, perfectly aware of the tone his thoughts had taken. "Sadly I am rather enjoying my meal, which is a novelty in this era. I swear you are going to have to get me some sort of mini-fridge that runs off batteries stocked with modern conveniences. It seems like if it's not in a pie or stewed... or gellied then it's not served here. I'll miss some things about this time period; the food won't be one of them." She tugged at her restrictive collar, "Or the outfits."

"So you're intending on being her long enough to require a more modern diet?" he asked and she heard the tension in his voice and could have kicked herself for the relative insensitivity of her comment.

"I also said I'd _miss_ things about this time period... implying I will be leaving." She added, pointing out the more rose tinted side of the conversation he'd clearly missed and his fingers left hers, his legs pulling away, as if he was punishing her in some small way because he clearly felt she was doing the same to him, however justifiably.

Her pained expression at his response clearly softened his and she watched him almost physically shake himself out of the darker slide his emotions could have taken, as keen it seemed as she was not to ruin their evening. He cocked his head observing her, his eyes travelling over her _fully_ covered form. "There are other establishments we could visit, those whose dress code and exploits are far less... restrained." He murmured perfectly aware what that tone did to her as he chose to continue the inappropriately flirtatious banter they'd started.

"Now who's being a tease." She laughed taking a large mouthful of her wine to finish it off and gripping his offered hand in hers as they stood. "Why Sir, how about you lead on to one of these Den's of Iniquity?"

They'd ended up in a rough seedy bar, on the back of some dark foul smelling alley where the curbs seemed to crawl with prostitutes and vagrants. But there was music, ale, greasy food and even a bare knuckle fighting ring to hold their attention. Perhaps not where a _lady_ should have ventured, but then she had never claimed to be one and wrapped in the Doctor's rough Scottish embrace no one questioned it. Nor did they care when she'd managed to unbutton a long row of her restrictive buttons from the neckline to leave her surprising amount of cleavage in the corset on display. The Doctor had even somewhat recklessly declared he wanted to throw his name in the ring and she had in fact checked his pupils when he suggested it to ensure he wasn't drunk on the local pig swill they called whiskey. He wasn't too bad she'd concluded as he'd handed his somewhat preciously fine coat to her with a flourish and taken a meticulously long time rolling up his shirt sleeves before he'd stepped up to meet his opponent. Clara held her breath, not certain entirely what he was trying to prove but surmising that it probably had something to do with her and in her somewhat inebriated state she was almost pleased at the recognisably human emotion from him as she swayed on her feet, trying not to admit how aroused the sight of him like that was making her. But she needn't have worried the toothless brute of a man he was fighting was vicious but slow and the Doctor wasn't human, and stronger than he looked. The brute got a few licks in before the Doctor got into his stride, his lip split but his eyes were wild as he wiped the blood on his shirt with almost feral glee. She almost pitied the other man as he took a particularly hard blow to the chin and went down. Which should have been the end of it, accept the Doctor had looked at her gleefully and decided to bury the toe of his boot in the downed mans chest for good measure, earning him a cacophony of applause and jeers in equal measure. Had she been more sober she wondered if it should have concerned her, the violent display, it wasn't much like the man she had known to willingly participate in blood sports, or to enjoy inflicting pain. But she was drunk and the thoughts all but slipped out of her mind the moment they had appeared as he sauntered up to her with his bloodied knuckles and lifted her chin to kiss her soundly.

They never did make it home that night and as he thrust into her, her back against the wall in one of those same dark back alleys they'd passed through on her way here; she found she couldn't have cared less about the smell, or the drunken vagrants stumbling by. Her arms clung to him and her mouth devoured him, taking every inch of him she could into her like she could somehow keep him there, keep him with her. It wouldn't have taken much, a simple word '_stay_' and he'd have moved into the Paternoster Row house until she was ready to return to the TARDIS. But even in her mostly drunken state she knew better than to mention it, to tempt such a fate. The Doctor in one place was a recipe for disaster; it would have been a cruelty to try and keep him here just because she wasn't ready, like caging a firebird.

So they had stumbled home as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the gloom and smog over London's streets and she had walked him to his TARDIS parked in the courtyard of no.13 and pushed him inside with a lingering kiss. Clicking her fingers to shut the doors on his longing features and sending a mental thought to the TARDIS to take him somewhere wonderful and safe for a little while. She'd stood watching the box dematerialise and hung her head as tears slipped free despite the soft smile on her lips, glancing back she looked up at the house that could never be a home, not without him. _Soon. _She conceded because she couldn't do this much longer either, not if all their dates went like this.

* * *

><p>He continued to <em>date<em> her, which was surprising, they'd never really had much of that before, even with his Bow-Tied self it had been more of a spur of the moment falling into each other's arms thing from the first moment. Although that depended on whether she considered all the trips they'd taken every Wednesday in the TARDIS before she'd slept with him _dates_. She imagined she possibly had, somehow she suspected he hadn't, that was more like 'showing off' for him. Either way it was new and strangely exciting to be dated by your husband. To have him turn up slightly nervously at the front door, eagerly early, a flower or on occasion a bunch of them in hand. The fact that most of the species of flower he gave her she couldn't name or possibly even show outside her bedroom didn't much seem to matter, all that mattered was that he was clearly trying, the rough edges sanding away with every gesture. Even Vastra seemed to be coming around to this _new _him, inviting him in to share an evening meal with them on occasion, even going so far as to actively seek his input on some of her more sensitive cases.

It helped that he was being deliberately charming Clara surmised. The fact that he was apparently good at it was new and particularly as he was directing it at people other than just her. He wined and dined her and took her out to see the various attractions of London in the Victorian era; but as always she drew the line at getting back in the TARDIS and letting him take her further afield than London, or more exotic; which he even accepted with a limited amount of grumbling. It felt like she had her husband back, at least for the days he gave to her and if he seemed to drink a little more whiskey or wine than he had before she didn't comment. If his hands held her that little bit tighter she overlooked it as the actions of man desperate to reconnect with his wife, because honestly it was what she'd wanted.

Perhaps that was why after a particularly wonderful day spent doing little else but enjoying each other's company and talking about absolutely nothing and everything she'd awoken to find him gone and found the absence almost unbearable. She pulled the ring she wore around her neck out and without thinking much further about the _why _of it she removed it from the chain and slipped it onto the fourth finger of her left hand. It glowed for a moment, assuming a perfect fit before it settled and she felt the flare of the TARDIS telepathic circuit settling somewhere in the back of her mind again. Staring down at it as she flexed her hand she couldn't help but smile, knowing the look it would bring to his face. Glancing out of the window of her bedroom she took in the snow covered expanse that had been growing steadily thicker for weeks with no apparent end in sight. The Season's had changed so quickly she realised, it had been nearly four months since she'd settled into Paternoster Row, four months of the Doctor's giving her space, whilst quietly and mostly successfully wooing her back to his side, looking at the snow covered ground she couldn't help but admire his patience.

Apparently the winters in Victorian era were brutal snow covered affairs that froze over the Thames completely. Not that it had stopped the Doctor any, if anything the cold stinging air seemed to have invigorated him as he gave his customary knock on the front door. Having now settled into his routine of Wednesdays and Saturdays that occasionally fell into additional days depending on her mood, or the particular case he might be helping them with. He always seemed to approach those extra days with glee, as if he'd somehow stolen them. Given as today was Thursday and he'd seen her all of yesterday and got a specific instruction to come see her again if he could think of something wonderful to do; then he was apparently treating today as another such 'stolen' day. Clara smiled fondly at him as he leant in to give her a kiss on the doorway, waiting as usual to be asked inside, no matter how many times Vastra had insisted he take a key and treat the place as if it were his own.

"I have something wonderful to show you." He grinned, clearly pleased to deliver as promised; but perhaps it was unfair to judge him by human standards, the man had on occasion cheated she recalled, whilst she wouldn't venture into the TARDIS to see wonders he apparently had no compunction about bringing them to her when he had need to.

Clara smiled a little coyly "Really, and here I thought I might be the one to show you something wonderful today." he frowned wondering what she meant as she reached out and grasped his hand with her left one, turning it up so he could see his ring there. The Doctor paused a moment, she wondered if he'd stopped breathing, certainly he seemed to go unearthly still, his eyes darting between her face and the ring as he hesitantly raised his other hand to brush over the metal band lightly as if to be sure it was really there.

He smiled softly and she blinked away the tears that rose at the sight of such a tender expression on his otherwise fierce face as she reached up and brushed his face with her hand. She went to say more but found her mouth otherwise occupied as he pushed them further into the house, kicking the door shut behind him and picking her up into his arms. He made it all the way to her bedroom door before he pulled back and let her breathe; his eyes wide and hopeful as she reached down for the door handle and pushed it open. "Don't stop on my account." She murmured, giving him all the permission he needed as he carried her over the threshold and proceeded to remind her just why she'd ever agreed to wear his ring in the first place.

Somewhat later in the day they had managed to make it out into the frigidly cold air, bundled up against the cold and grasping one gloved hand in his she let him take the lead as he guided them down to the banks of the Thames. "A Frost Fair." The Doctor rasped in her ear as she stared out across the ice covered expanse that now sported tents, wondrous smells and the loud raucous laughter of Londoners stepping out onto the thickly frozen water with delight. Clara turned up to smile at him, as far as wonders went, she thought it would do nicely and no TARDIS required at all.

Of course it wouldn't have been the Doctor without a simple trip to the fair turning into some adventure. The Carnival of Curiosities had certainly lived up to its name with a particular Shadowplay drawing his interest, _'impossible shadows how could he resist?'_ It unravelled as his little adventures always did into a bigger plot with a decidedly alien influence featuring those unfortunate Curios from the Fair. Deception had been key to foiling this particular attempt to destroy humanity only this time it hadn't been the Doctors and she took quiet pleasure in watching him work from the sidelines, his actions for once perfectly balanced, if no less risky than usual.

As they lay in bed together that night her head on his chest, listening to the solid thump thump of his hearts, she told him all of that. He snorted, deflecting the praise as usual. "It was hardly taxing." He murmured, "And the fools did think to try and distract me with visages of myself. If they'd known anything about me at all, they'd have known they'd only need show the palest imitation of you and I would have followed it heedlessly."

Clara sighed, stroking her hand against his cheek. "You need to love yourself more." She chastised him lightly, for a man capable of so much wonder, so much pride and confidence, he loathed himself more than anyone else in the Universe.

She could almost feel him rolling his eyes as he took her hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. "That's what I have you for." He murmured and she glanced up seeing the laughter dancing in his eyes in that moment and there it was that confidence... the charisma as he turned up the charm, certain that he had her once more.

"Smug doesn't suit you." She kissed his chin, shaking her head at him as she smiled against his stubbled jaw. "And do me a favour husband," the word made his breath catch and she continued on as if she hadn't noticed, "have a shave. The hobo look is becoming distracting and I hate beard burn." He laughed and wrapped his arms around her rolling her beneath him and deliberately grating those sharp hairs against the softness of her throat.

"You're the boss." he offered and she pulled him closer, happy that they could have this time over, that she could learn to love him like this without feeling it had somehow been forced on her, it made all just so much more real and precious.

* * *

><p>The Doctor traced his hand through his sleeping wife's hair, his skin almost burning from the touch and he took his fingers away, taking in long lung-fulls of air saturated with her before he left, burning the image of her sleeping form into his retinas to replay, her lips curling into a soft smile for him as she slept on undisturbed. It was torture, what she was doing to him, what he was letting her do. Worse than anything any enemy could ever devise. He felt starved of oxygen as he stumbled back into his TARDIS, the doors slamming shut and the engines ramping up in the well practiced pre-programmed pattern to get him away as quickly as possible before he was tempted to do something rash. Like kidnap his wife and lock her away where she could never distance herself from him again.<p>

The TARDIS thrummed and he collapsed into his high-backed leather armchair, his head in his hands as he focused on merely breathing. The steady in and out as he tried to calm the shaking in his hands. He reached for the bottle he kept close by, whiskey had long since stopped taking the edge off and he was now being forced to track down ever more scarce quantities of Verdonian Ale, banned in most respected Star Systems. Guaranteed to rot your liver and your brain cells, but perfectly capable of helping you relive any memory you chose in vivid glorious detail until said memory dribbled out of your nose with the rest of your mind. If Clara was his drug of choice then this was the tonic he used to wash her down with.

He ignored the sounds of disapproval from the TARDIS as he focused on the memory of her from the last three days, the case had required that he spend more than one day in her company, and he hadn't wasted it. Savouring every touch, every glance, every word she uttered as he closed his eyes now taking a large swill of the foul liquid and tossing his head back to relive it all. Not that he'd mentioned to anyone that he had picked up some unusual energy signatures coming from the Fair and a suspicion that something was afoot that might require him getting involved in a case with them. Of course it hadn't been enough time with her; it never was and he cracked open one bleary eye before he became too addled to speak. "Activate visual voice interface, Programme 12." He instructed, the TARDIS grumbled but complied, the lifelike image of Clara appearing before him in the Victorian red dress she had actually never worn herself, but he'd always admired on her form; a smile was gracing her lips making her face seem rounder, yet more delicate for the soft dimple it produced that he loved to kiss.

"Tell me you love me?" He croaked, keeping his eyes on her whilst the images replayed in his mind.

"I love you." His fictitious version promised, coming closer until she was within reach and he forced himself to hold the armrests, not to try and reach out for her or spoil the illusion with her disembodied nature. "My Doctor." It breathed and he sighed, closing his eyes as she bent to his ear and whispered more promises to him, her soft voice calming him as the memories took him away from the crushing knowledge that the real _she_ was not here.

* * *

><p>The distress signal blared out and he stood blearily, stumbling towards the console and rubbing his hands across his eyes as he stared at the information streaming to him. His fingers gripped the console and he all but growled as it became apparent why the TARDIS had felt the need to rouse him. <em>Daleks<em>.

These particular ones seemed to be chasing down a human vessel that was making an admirable attempt to escape them, sadly they clearly didn't know enough about the Daleks if they thought they had a chance of outrunning them. Still he admired the gumption they had to try and particularly the pilots skill for making it this far. He sighed, intervening went against his instincts, but he loathed the Daleks enough to take a small measure of pity on the crafts occupants... but mostly he just wanted to rob the Daleks of this little victory.

He should have left the pilot 'Journey Blue' to rot he realised quickly as the idiotic human actually had the nerve to pull a gun on him, in his own bloody TARDIS for rescuing her but not her very dead brother. This was the thanks he got for helping, he needed to remember that about humans. He'd dropped her off with little fanfare and maintained mild interest in her little ragtag human resistance force, however pitiful it was against the Dalek invasion; if only because they had something that piqued his interest. _A good Dalek_. He scoffed at the notion and considered asking Clara if she would consider a trip in the TARDIS with him to see it. But the idea of putting his wife within spitting distance of another Dalek disturbed him, that and the fact that if she rejected the idea of stepping in his ship once again he wasn't certain he'd be able to keep his composure, or perhaps his temper.

So instead he let his curiosity take him inside the heart of a Dalek, where he was shrunk down to comical proportions and accompanied by a bunch of overzealous apes armed with useless weapons and barely functional cognitive resources. He had a sneaking suspicion as to the problem affecting this damaged Dalek's supposed moral centre. It had only taken him about half his team to realise that fixing the problem which turned out to be radiation poisoning had effectively proven his point. But it had given him an idea... poisoning a Dalek. He was inside one, somewhere he'd never been, it was an opportunity he couldn't pass up.

It had taken him the strategic sacrifice of the rest of his team, even the irascible Journey Blue who had died somewhat heroically even he had to admit, whilst rebooting the Dalek's blocked memories which had expanded its mind wide enough to accept _his _suggestion. His window of opportunity. To think that it had been beauty, wonder and the sheer tenacity of live prevailing that had so confounded and changed this Dalek. It was sickening, a Dalek didn't deserve such an epiphany, didn't deserve to know that wonder. He plugged his own mind into the Dalek's circuitry and smiled with vicious intent as it absorbed every inch of his hate, every loathed instinct he had for this disgusting species. He was making a new kind of monster, putting his own mind, his own fury inside a tin can and programming it to turn against its kind. Making a monster out of a monster. It was almost poetic he realised as he let it go off on its single-minded mission against its own kind.

Carnage was the inevitable conclusion as it struck down friend and foe with equal voracity, a Dalek blinded by a Time Lords hate and malicious ingenuity. It was quite possibly the finest and most depraved weapon a Time Lord had ever created, worthy of his people at their most malignant; one more to add to the vault of banned weapons on Gallifrey he imagined. The base was a smouldering wreck when he summoned his TARDIS and re-sized himself, watching his creation trundle away to wreak further havoc as it sought out the core of the Dalek fleet with an odd sense of pride.

The TARDIS had not been impressed as he fell into his seat and took his customary mouthful of liquid toxin, she refused to activate the visual interface and he was forced to resort to his imagination alone to conjure images of his wife. He was in no fit state to try and fiddle with her console and attempt an override, but he resolved to put a block on her from stopping him in the future. Although he genuinely didn't know what her problem was, it wasn't like he'd corrupted an innocent and turned it into a killing machine and pointed at his enemy; it was a Dalek, as far as it was concerned it had probably become the best Dalek it could be. The fact that the human resistance had needed to sacrifice themselves to let him achieve that was just unfortunate collateral damage and a call he'd make again; that one Dalek had singlehanded done more to dent the Dalek fleet than their entire pitiful resistance. If they'd been alive, no doubt the Commander would have 'thanked' him for managing to succeed where they had failed, or maybe not humans never were big on gratitude they always seemed to just assume he'd save the day for them because he was somehow obligated.

But none of this brought the image of Clara any sooner to materialising in front of him. _Blasted interfering ship_. He thought loudly at her as he was forced to sink into memories alone of his Clara drawing comfort from them like nothing else could give him now in the periods he was forced to leave the woman herself to her own devices.


	22. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER TWENTY TWO **

The Doctor stood in the console room, straightening his jacket and glancing at his hair long enough to pat it down into some reasonable definition of tame as he powered down the TARDIS. It was Wednesday and he was early as usual, but then Clara had never complained, he grinned making his way towards the doors when he heard the knock on them. He opened it roughly half expecting to find Strax outside, wanting to bother him with talk of past glories when all he really wanted to do was find his wife. As it was, said wife was instead standing outside the door, looking both sheepish and excited, delectable as ever though, he wasn't quite sure how but she seemed to make even Victorian fashion seem suggestive to him.

"Clara?" he asked, unable to keep the smile from splitting his features but managing to phrase it as a question none the less. She hadn't been so much as within several feet of his TARDIS since she'd chosen to 'separate' herself temporarily from him.

"My dear Doctor." She replied with a smirk, sliding into the TARDIS and past him, her fingers tracing along his chest and leaving a burning trail where they touched as she slowly made her way into the console room. But she hadn't answered his unasked question he noted.

"I was just coming up to see you, I've had a thought about what we could do today..." he trailed off seeing her fingers brushing the buttons and levers of the console with a fondness and reverence only he normally used on them as she leant in close to whisper something to the sentient machine that had it all but purring. The woman could flirt with anything he noted admiringly.

Clara glanced back up at him, noticing his clearly hesitant behaviour as he hovered in the doorway watching her with rapt attention. "I was hoping we might go somewhere in the TARDIS today." She asked him softly, leaning back against the console and staring at him evenly as he felt his heartbeat quicken, knowing she'd be aware of it too.

"Oh?" he questioned, shutting the door and stepping up towards her and trying not to sound like the hopeful fool he apparently still was. "Did you have somewhere particular in mind?" he thought it best not to broach the subject of her apparent desire to be inside their home again, lest he disturb the notion. He closed the distance between them and slid his arms around her waist, holding her lightly as she cocked her head in that way which meant he wasn't going to like what she was about to convince him to do.

"I've been reading a lot recently, Vastra and Jenny have quite the library." She added, her hand going out to trace the smooth buttons on his jacket, her eyes on them and not on him. "The Classic's mostly, some Old English Folk Tales..."

He frowned sensing the incoming. "Out with it." He murmured leaning in to kiss her jaw, wondering if this was what it was to be 'wrapped around her little finger'.

"I want to go see Robin Hood." She whispered, pressing a kiss to his smoothly shaven chin her fingers tracing it with a smirk that he'd clearly listened to her plea to end the 'hobo' look before spinning away from him with a coquettish laugh.

The Doctor closed his mouth, watching her twirl in almost giddy excitement at the prospect. "A man in tights." He deadpanned and she narrowed her gaze at him that did nothing to dent her smirk. "He's a myth." He added with no small amount of scorn.

"A legend actually." Clara sighed. "A dashing hero from a bygone time. I'm sure the two of you will get along famously." He only picked up the faintest hint of irony from her on that which mildly surprised him, a small bitter internal voice mocked that she had no idea how far from hero he would describe himself. But then he wasn't all that bothered about being anyone's hero but hers.

The Doctor felt his lips twist into something close to irritation. "Except that I'm real and he's very much... not." He bit out.

Clara rolled her eyes. "How about you try aiming this lovely box of yours in the general vicinity and see if _She_ can come up with something Robin Hood shaped."

"He doesn't exist." He got the impression he was talking to himself here and he almost buried his face in his palms with exasperation.

"Prove it." She challenged, grasping his hand and pulling him gently over to the controls.

He couldn't quite keep the exasperated look on his face when she was exuding such enthusiasm, the fact that she was back in the TARDIS at all was enough to make him almost close to giddy himself, if she wanted Robin Hood he supposed he damn well better find her something like it if it was at all possible. So he slid behind her and guided her hands over the controls, lowering his head to her ear. "How about you take us there." He murmured, drawing her ear into his mouth and nibbling lightly as she pressed back into him. "12th Century...ish." he added, guiding her hand towards the appropriate setting, finesse was a skill she often had in abundance but not quite with the TARDIS he'd noted, although the Old Girl never had made it easy for her. The machine whirled, the vortex depositing them somewhere he hoped was in the appropriate time period as Clara guided the destination to England, Nottingham, Sherwood Forest. The TARDIS landed and the engines cut out. He reached over her swinging the scanner around for them both to look. "Well we're here, let's see if this hero of yours is." He kissed her neck but she turned in his arms, her hand going to his chest with a coy smirk.

"Oh no, I've been stuck in Victorian fashion for months, if I'm going out there I'm going to be period appropriate." The look she gave him suggested she expected him to do the same, he leant forward and captured her chin with his finger, pressing a light kiss to her lips.

"I won't be wearing tights my Love, no matter how persuasive you are." The woman actually had the nerve to smirk, sliding past him to aim a particularly hard swat to his ass that had him gripping the console to stop himself from chasing after her and returning the favour.

"Pity they'd really show off that tight little bottom! At least try and look less like a magician." She called back as she sauntered off into the depths of his ship to locate the wardrobe and he couldn't help but let the smile slide onto his face. The TARDIS gave a brush against his subconscious which was as close to her approval as he'd come in some time, he glanced up at the chair that had become his makeshift bed and the table beside it. With an uneasy sigh he headed for it retrieving the offending bottle from it and removing the evidence of just how poorly he was coping without his wife. It was ridiculous he considered as he moved about the ship, the urge to take a swig of the liquid almost making his hands shake with need, so he found the kitchen and attempted to find something else to quench his thirst. The closest he found was a tub of what he was certain couldn't be _his_ vanilla ice cream, despite the fact that Clara wouldn't have touched the stuff unless it had the word 'chocolate' in it, he'd have preferred maybe some rum and raisin. Hell who was he kidding he'd have preferred his bottle... but he was trying to at least appear to be holding his composure without her and it probably had been a while since he ate anything, the sugar would help. He retrieved the largest spoon he could find and retreated back to his leather backed seat, easing into it and without an inch of decorum shoving the spoon into the tub. _Comfort eating at his age_? He wondered what exactly that said about him, pining over a woman who'd been alive little more than a blink to him. _Pathetic._

Of course said woman chose to sashay into the console room and he felt his breath catch as his eyes traced every curve the flowing red dress clung to, the plunge of the neckline the trim that hugged her hips. He shifted uncomfortably feeling his trousers tighten as he held the spoon foolishly to his open mouth, not quite able to make his brain finish the movement when she looked up at him. Her hair had grown longer he noticed in her absence, it tumbled around her in rivulets now that she had gently curled, further softening her features. Suddenly the idea of pining after this woman made perfect sense again.

"What do you think?" she asked twirling lightly for him, the flash of the metal circlet she had placed through her hair and over her forehead drawing his attention as he stood slowly.

"Breathtaking." He murmured.

She sauntered closer to him, perfectly aware he imagined of how delectable she looked, it probably helped that he no doubt looked like he'd been struck over the head repeatedly with something heavy.

"Period appropriate?" she was in arms reach now and he itched to reach out and touch her, realising for the first time that he still had an iron grip on the spoon. Why was it always her in red that proved to be his undoing? Suddenly sat here in his seat watching her approach him he realised how hollow his attempts to replicate even her image had been.

"Not in the least." He managed his voice a little hoarse as he let his eyes trace her form now she was closer, her eyebrow quirked in question, clearly she'd tried very hard to find something authentic in all the TARDIS had to offer in 12th Century period wear. He cleared his throat, shoving the spoon into his breast pocket to free up both his hands as he reached for her waist, becoming particularly aware of just how tiny she was as he towered over her, his large hands sliding around her waist. "You are an extraordinary beauty my dear in your own time... here and now, you are practically ethereal. We will have next to no chance of blending in unnoticed."

She rewarded him with a long searing kiss as she tugged the back of his head down and he couldn't help the groan that her actions elicited as he felt her thigh quite deliberately brush his hardening length. His hands wandered and he pulled back surprised when he felt metal, he pulled the offending item into his eyeline. "A sword?" he questioned, examining the one she had strapped around her waist in a delicate scabbard held behind her to conceal it at first glance.

Clara merely shrugged, reaching back to pull the offending item from its leather holder and drew it out, it was small, delicate clearly designed for a woman, but long and sharp enough that it would kill someone as well as any broadsword. "Everyone carries a sword in this time period." She told him quite confidently.

"Men." He corrected. "And besides we're here for Robin Hood, I'd have thought you'd have gone for the bow and arrow."

Clara held the sword deftly in her hand, her grip firm, "Yes but I doubt I could hit the broad side of a bus with a bow and arrow... this I can handle."

The Doctor quirked a disbelieving eyebrow at her, he'd never seen her pick up so much as a pocket knife, now she was going to wield a sword capable of lopping something he wouldn't grow back off? But her features were set, teasing almost, daring him to call her on this. "You're going to put someone's eye out." He rose to the challenge and her lips curled up as she stepped away from him and back down to the console, sliding around it, the sword out as she assumed a perfect riposte, glaring back up at him.

"We'll see." She challenged, beckoning him forward with a crooked and highly seductive little finger.

The Doctor never had been one to back down from a challenge, sword or not as he stalked towards her deliberately flicking out his jacket so that the red lining flashed catching her eye, his hands went into his pockets and he retrieved his own concession to 'period appropriate' wear, slipping on the leather gloves and delighting in the way her eyes lingered on them with clear interest.

"You intend to disarm me with your bare hands?" she taunted, the sword still pointing at him as she held her position, her form far too practiced he noticed as he took in the line of her arm and her feet. Someone had clearly been instructing her.

He eyed her levelly, "No, I intend to disarm you with my _spoon_." He replied with a flourish retrieving the offending item from his jacket pocket and brandishing it in front of him. It was long enough he surmised to offer adequate defence.

"Midnight snacking?" she teased eyeing the spoon with clear mockery.

"En guard." He barked, giving her no more warning than that as he lunged forwards swinging the ridiculous spoon. It became quickly apparent to him as she not only defended from getting wrapped on the back by the flat side of his spoon but managed to avoid damaging him, that she'd had more than a little instruction. She landed a glancing blow across his backside that had him smarting as he danced away from her.

"Should I be thanking Madame Vastra for instructing you so well in the fine art of swordplay?"

Clara smirked, stalking closer to him and forcing him to defend again, deciding that brute strength might be his better option using his height against her as he caught her wrist and shoved her bodily into the console, holding the dangerous arm to the side as she struggled briefly until he pushed his entire body into her, attempting to hold her still with that.

"Jenny actually." She replied, looking up at him her impossibly large eyes blinking almost innocently back. "But I'm afraid she's something of a fan of playing dirty, what with being only human after all." He had a moment to consider her words before he found himself on his back winded and staring up at the blade that was quite deliberately close to nicking the skin beneath his chin as she forced him to stare up at her. Not that he needed encouragement to look at her, he hadn't taken his eyes off her since she'd swept back into their home.

"Do you yield?" she pressed her delicate boot clad foot against his wrist forcing him to release his 'weapon' as the blade moved higher forcing him to tilt his head back.

"To you?" he asked breathless still from his abrupt landing on his back, she waited her eyebrow arched perfectly at him, expectant. "Always." He promised, her hand waivered slightly responding to his own dirty trick and he took the advantage, wrenching the blade out of her grasp and tossing it aside as he shot up, wrapping his arms around her legs and all but throwing her over his shoulder as she shrieked in clear outrage and he chuckled darkly.

"Cheat." She snarled, swatting his back from her position and attempting to wiggle herself free of his grasp.

"Merely utilising my own not so insignificant wiles." He corrected. "Am I to blame that you are so easily distracted by me?"

"Yes." She muttered, falling still. "But you are not ripping these clothes off me, it took me forever to put them on." She snapped and he deposited her on her feet in front of the console with what on him was as close to a pout as he could manage. Apparently she had no problem interpreting where his mind had gone. "Men and their swords." She tutted in exasperation, glancing at the considerable one his trousers were only just concealing.

He leant in close, crowding her space as his hands pressed against the console edge, caging her in with his body. "What if I promise to be careful." He rasped, lowering his head to her neck, and tracing lower down across her ample breast which was almost so tauntingly on display. "I won't so much as damage a seam." He promised certain he'd break it.

Clara tutted, "Or a button perhaps?" she queried lifting her hand and pushing his head back to show him the offending item she had resting on her palm. He stared at it scandalised before stepping back and examining his precious coat, finding the damaged thread where she had clearly sliced it from without him even noticing.

He raised his eyes to hers, impressed and irritated, he loved this coat. "Wicked wife." He hissed, charging her again, she put up a half hearted attempt at darting away from him, but as he wrapped her in his arms and sealed his mouth over hers he felt her all but melt into him. It was a feeling he was certain he'd never get used to, or fail to appreciate.

"Console." She murmured against his lips, half dragging him towards it by his belt as she hastily worked it through her fingers and he knew better than to ask questions as he followed her almost blindly as her tongue flicked lightly against his mouth. This time it was his back that hit the console not hers and he was the one trapped by her body, she pulled back from his lips to give him one searing look before she dropped to her knees and he let out a half strangled sound at just the idea of it as her deft hands freed him of his restrictive clothing.

"What about the dress?" he gasped as her soft hands stroked the length of him with just the right amount of pressure. She didn't answer and he lost the ability to form words when her mouth replaced her hands and his legs almost buckled until he was forced to grip the console tightly just to keep himself upright. He felt elation and something close to wonder bubbling up inside of his chest as her hot, wet mouth sucked him. He was thousands of years old, it was hardly the first set of lips he'd had around his cock and yet whenever it was hers it was somehow so much more than just sex, it seemed impossible to him that all his vast intellect, the power he possessed could be so utterly undone by the sight of her on her knees as he disappeared into her mouth.

"Clara." He all but sobbed, his hand cupping her face but not daring or needing to pull her closer as she took in more of him than he thought possible, her tongue dancing around the head as she sucked particularly hard, her hand rising to increase his torment as she grasped his balls and made his eyes roll back. She wanted him to come like this he realised dimly as she set every nerve ending he had on fire, unrelenting in her torment as he shuddered, straining every ounce of his control to prevent the inevitable, wanting it to last. But her mouth was wicked and he bucked sharply at her insistence letting out a cry of elation his eyes snapping down to her wide brown ones that were fixed on his face as he came violently into her mouth. She didn't stop sucking him as he shuddered his body thrusting lightly into her until he was finally spent, her eyes were bright with mischief and lust and he lowered his hand to brush her cheek as she gently removed him from her mouth, pressing a lingering kiss to the softening length. With as much care as she had removed him she slipped him back into his trousers and zipped him back up, readjusting his belt and gracefully sliding her chest along his body as she got to her feet.

He didn't trust himself to speak as she reached up and brushed his cheek, leaning up to press a lingering kiss there.

"Shall we go find our elusive Outlaw?" she asked, her look both satisfied and coy, but she didn't even have a hair out of place whilst he was still a trembling mess, he imagined he looked thoroughly flushed and debauched.

"Good God woman." He rasped, running his hands over his face and trying to regain some semblance of composure. "And here I thought I'd lost the duel."

She laughed lightly, reaching for his hand and tugging him closer. "Come on Doctor, let's go Medieval."

* * *

><p>The poor man was still shell shocked she realised lightly as he caught himself from stumbling yet again in the dense forest, it was certainly more 'foresty' than she recalled Sherwood Forest being when she'd visited as a child. It was a little surprising after all it was hardly the first time she'd taken him in her mouth, but then most of those times had been with his previous self and never quite so... charged. But then again she'd also found it so much more arousing with this version of him, he had such a composed air, so controlled, the idea that she could make him come apart so beautifully did more than a little for her ego. That and if she was brutally honest with herself she preferred that particular part of his anatomy on this version, both the taste, feel and size of him, she'd always thought this version sexually had been custom built for her, nearly 6 months on and she had yet to be swayed from that particular line of thought.<p>

"Your smugness is radiating." He whispered as he brushed past her, taking her arm to help her over a particularly boggy stretch of mud and roots.

Clara merely smirked. "Don't tell me you don't like me smug." He opened his mouth to speak and they both jerked as an arrow embedded itself in the tree mere millimetres from his head. Clara's head shot around and her eyes widened in surprise to find a group of men pointing clearly working bows and arrows at them. Not a pair of tights in sight.

"Gentleman... now what do we have here?" the one who'd shot the arrow declared, his tone gruff as Clara eyed him, taking in what she thought would probably have been an attractive face behind the grime and filthy leather getup. His long hair was a nearly matted mess and she suspected as she caught sight of his smile that he had a mouthful of rotten teeth hidden by a stringy beard.

"Oh God tell me that's not Robin Hood." Clara managed quietly, but all eyes snapped to her, the Doctor's included as he looked between the two of them.

"What did you expect... it's the 12th Century and he lives in a forest, you were hardly going to run into Errol Flynn out here." The Doctor muttered and she watched him surreptitiously check his pocket, no doubt for his screwdriver.

"My dear Lady, you've heard of me, I'm flattered." The outlaw that seemed to be _the_ Robin Hood she'd been hoping to find all but leered at her and pointedly aimed his bow with an arrow cocked at the Doctor's head. "Empty your pockets Sir, or this next arrow will end up between your eyes and then where would that leave your lovely daughter, out her alone in the woods with men like us." The sudden danger clearly reached the Doctor more than her, she was more affronted by the idea that she was being seen as his 'daughter'.

In irritation and no small amount of disappointment having finally met her hero only to find this unwashed letch in his place, she gave him a dark pointed look and turned grasping the Doctor by the back of his head and crashed her lips against his long enough for them to get the idea as she turned her head to glare at him. "Don't threaten my husband." She bit back.

The outlaw merely smirked and tipped the point of his grubby pointed cap, "Apologies my dear, perhaps then you could do us the favour of emptying his pockets for him."

"We have nothing of value." The Doctor replied quietly, his soft but dangerous tone drawing back their attention with ease as she watched Robin seem to reassess him, she realised uneasily that the man wasn't a fool and he could sense the threat of the Doctor clearly and wasn't going to give him a moment's leeway to try something clever.

There was a rustle of bitter amused laughter and comments that came from the group of men surrounding them, Clara counted five. Although one man was tall and wide enough that she couldn't be sure she hadn't counted him twice. The Doctor however still stood taller than the majority of them, a fact he seemed to enjoy as he stood straighter, his leather gloves clearly gripped around his concealed screwdriver. The calm expression on his face made her suspect that it possibly wasn't the 'sonic' kind and she sighed, she should have known he'd find a way to retrieve the damn laser one eventually.

"It would seem Sir, that your definition of value and ours differs somewhat." Robin pointed out this time drawing his sword and brandishing it with easy skill born of necessity that Clara could just about recognise and had enough sense to be concerned over. Robin stalked closer the arrows of his men not lowering their aim on either of them as he pointed the sword quite deliberately at her chest, just a breath from nicking her skin. She felt the Doctor bristle and she tried to catch his eye pleading with him to not disintegrate Robin Hood of all people. "Remove your jacket, the boots, the gloves... and empty your pockets. Or I will use this sword to disrobe your wife." On second thoughts Clara considered maybe if he just aimed the screwdriver at one of the men surrounding them.

"Don't threaten my wife you unwashed cretin, you have no idea who you are dealing with." The Doctor threatened, taking a menacing step forward, another arrow embedded itself in the tree behind him, he didn't flinch but she noticed the feint trickle of blood run down his ear clearly having caught him on the way past. Robin moved closer and she moved to go for her own sword, finding his hand clamped hard down around her wrist as he slid behind her, putting her body between him and the Doctor as the blade slid to her throat.

"I don't much care _who_ you are. Let's not make this unpleasant, I have a bounty on my head large enough to dwarf whatever valuables you think you are holding. Or does your beautiful young wife mean so little to you?" Robin's tone was all taunt and she knew the Doctor would rise to it.

Clara watched the Doctor's eye twitch and she realised Robin was about to be vaporised. She was doing it to preserve history she told herself as she slammed her fisted hand back into the Outlaw's groin, the obvious reaction being that the sword he had held to her throat bit deep and she felt the cut of it. She spun as his grunt loosened his grip giving her wiggle room and shoved him hard before quickly drawing her own sword, not slowed by the blood flowing from the ugly wound he'd made in her neck as she shoved her own hard against his throat. Robin had the sense to look both pained and bewildered as she redirected and jabbed at his wrist, forcing him to drop the blade he was bringing up again, and she returned hers quickly to his throat. But his eyes were fixed on what she knew was the unnerving sight of her throat emitting a feint golden glow as it healed over. The memory tugged at her painfully, the feel of a blade biting into her skin, but she pushed it away, focusing on surviving, she couldn't afford to be crippled by the horrific memories that would probably continue to haunt her for the foreseeable future.

"What are you?" Robin gasped, looking between the two of them, the Doctor was holding his screwdriver, the smooth metal object and odd lights clearly drawing his eye even from the sight of her healed skin as his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Witchcraft." He hissed and Clara's eyes darted around seeing the arrows waiver from the men gathered.

The Doctor barked out a laugh that seemed to rumble across the ground hitting each of them soundly with its darkness. "Oh trust me, right now I am the Devil!" The Doctor snarled and Clara realised that whilst she was coping with the sudden reminder of blades in her flesh he clearly wasn't.

Whatever might have happened next Clara was relieved she'd never have to find out, because their tense stand off was disrupted violently by the very real laser blast that disintegrated one of Robin's men, reducing him to ash and bone... only the shot hadn't come from the Doctor. Clara shared a look with him and he glanced at his own hand as if to make sure he had in fact not fired.

"The Sheriff's Knights!" the shout went up from one of the men and Clara felt the Doctor grasp her hand firmly, dragging her behind a tree which didn't offer much better cover as she watched the outlaws scatter.

Clara's eyes rounded on the somewhat surreal sight of armoured Knights, all in black advancing through the forest. Which was enough to get her heart rate pulsing, she didn't need the added terror of seeing their masks split open to reveal metal faces as they appeared to fire laser beams from their foreheads. "Robot Knights?" She hissed, grasping somewhat tighter onto the Doctor, robots were not something she felt she could deal with right now on top of those memories.

"Wonderful." He murmured and had the sense to wipe the excited smile off his face at her somewhat less than amused look. Clara sheathed her delicate sword and fished out the sonic she'd attached to the belt, sword or sorcery she knew which she'd pick to fight a robot. They made a relatively good go of defending themselves, certainly better than the supposedly Merry Men had evidently fared if she was judging by the shouts coming from the concealing trees. The Doctor even managed to disable one of them with his laser screwdriver before he was taken down by a none too gentle whack to the back of his head that sent him crashing to his knees and onto the floor out cold.

Clara hesitated, hovering over his prone vulnerable form, her sonic aimed at the robots who seemed to have surrounded their position. Numbers and superior firepower making this a pointless fight, but one she felt compelled to stand her ground for. The faceplate of the Knight closest opened and she felt a rush of panic, she had no desire to be disintegrated... or at least to find out if she could be. She shot her hands up in surrender. "Ok, ok you got us. No need to fire." They paused which was something she supposed, "Take me to your leader?" she tried mildly hopeful. There was the distinctive sound of a horse coming to a stop somewhere behind her and she turned slowly, looking up into the sneering face of a man in black leather, with long black hair, a neat black beard and a somewhat superior expression on his face. He was better groomed than the 'Merry Men' and she couldn't smell him from where she was stood so that was probably a good indicator that he was someone 'Leaderish'.

"Throw down the device." He instructed eyeing the sonic in her hand and not assuming it was some magic wand as the Outlaws had. The idea that he was responsible for the Robots was looking better and better.

Clara did as requested as he dismounted crossing to retrieve her sonic with easy grace as she carefully stepped in front of the fallen form of the Doctor, wanting him out of sight and hopefully mind for even a moment or two. He held it up, running his hands over the metal.

"It would seem we have something in common my dear." He eyed her shrewdly and she tried not to notice the way his gaze dropped to take in every inch of her curves the dress did little to hide. She suppressed the instinct to cross her arms over her chest.

"I take it the robots are yours?" she asked, throwing an admiring glance she didn't feel at the ones surrounding them.

"My metal men... yes." He approached one, giving it a dismissive glance and she reassessed her assumption that he'd understood what they were and so was unlikely to be an alien, or a time traveller, but rather a native who had appropriated them for his use. Instead he seemed far more interested in her, Clara smiled back at him baring the dimple to full effect and giving a gentle curtsey as she extended her hand to him.

The impulse was too delightful to squash even in this less than ideal situation, "I am the Lady Marion." She tried not to turn her soft smile into a grin, "I must thank you and your 'metal men' then, for rescuing us. I fear those Outlaws meant us harm. Might I enquire as to the name of our rescuer?" He blinked, apparently reassessing her much as she had him, he grasped her hand stepping closer into her space and drawing it to his lips to press a lingering kiss on the back of it, his eyes not leaving her face.

"I am the Sheriff of Nottingham, it is a pleasure my dear Lady to make your acquaintance I'm sure." He glanced at the fallen Doctor behind her, confirming her somewhat darker suspicions about his identity given where she was. "You're father I presume?" he added Clara merely nodded, gritting her teeth and deciding that it was infinitely safer to let this idiot think that for the time being, he was after all the one with the Robots under his control. He didn't release her hand, drawing her in closer and brushing against her side and she tried not to think about the stories she'd read when dealing with this flesh and blood version of the famous villain.

"Yes it is a dangerous place these forests, but fortunately we now have Robin Hood and his Outlaws, I imagine it will be safe for respectable folk like yourselves to pass through once more." Clara merely nodded, noticing he was quite deliberately walking them towards his horse. He stopped and swung up onto the giant thing with grace that she had to admire, until he held his hand out for her.

"I must insist you accompany me my Lady back to Nottingham Castle. Although we have the Outlaw Robin Hood, there may be more of his band of miscreants stalking these woods and you would make rather too tempting a target, as helpless as you are. I would therefore be remiss in my duty as Sheriff not to protect you." Clara hesitated, the 'helpless' comment rankled, but she accepted his outstretched hand and allowed him to pull her up onto the saddle in front of him, until she was settled practically and rather uncomfortably in his lap. Her dress didn't exactly permit anything more than that as she gripped the hand he offered to steady her.

"What about my... father?" She all but bit out the word, she knew the Doctor would be furious to think she'd actually gone along with the ruse, worse yet used that word herself to describe him.

The Sheriff glanced over at him. "Ah yes, well unfortunately it seems your father does not quite have your good sense, he attacked one of my metal men, an example has to be set." Clara froze at the implication, followed by the feel of his gloved hand against her spine, the touch just too familiar as he traced a pattern until his fingers gripped her waist, sliding her closer to him and entrapping her in his arms as he gripped the reigns. As one the Knights seemed to move at a seemingly unspoken command from him, closing the circle around the Doctor's prone form and she panicked, adrenalin fuelling her as she sparked from one idea to another, concluding that she really had no choice other than to wade into the obviously bated trap the Sheriff had apparently set for her.

"Wait please... we didn't know." His lips drew to her ear and she felt the harsh rasp of his breath.

"A precedent has been set my Lady, I could not possibly show leniency." He murmured and she turned glaring up at him, some of her pleading from moments ago giving way to a look of steel that only seemed to spark a renewed interest from him as his grip on her hip tightened.

"Please Sheriff." She offered quietly, wrapping her hand around one of his gloved ones and leaning in close as she let her eyes provocatively drop to his lips for a moment. "A man as powerful as you, surely we can come to some arrangement." She managed, the words cloying in her mouth as she said them, but what else could she do, right now the only thing she had to trade was the one thing he seemed interested in... her.

His smile was predatory. "Well, I am not without influence, perhaps there _is_ some agreement that could be reached." He admitted and his gloved finger brushed her cheek as she suppressed the shudder. He turned to the Knights. "Put him with the others." He instructed and they grabbed the Doctor hauling him up and dragging him off to a cart they had loaded the remaining Outlaws into, all of them in similar states of unconsciousness.

"Thank you." She murmured, genuinely enough, having to tear her eyes away from the way they all but threw him into the cart like a ragdoll and focusing on the smug expression of the man that for the moment held all the cards.

He glanced back down at her. "Of course My Lady, let it never be said that the Sheriff of Nottingham was not merciful."

The ride to the castle had at least been blessedly brief, she wasn't sure she could have tolerated the way his hands wandered in the attempt to assist in keeping her '_secure'_ on the horse in her awkward side saddle position. It left her in no doubt as to what exactly he expected her to repay his lenience with, and just how 'grateful' she would have to be. The urge to dig her nails into the back of his hands and forcefully throw them off her with a sneer and a smart mouthed comment rose and she quashed it. Now wasn't the time when surrounded by his robots to challenge him, she needed to get him alone to stand any chance of overpowering him. So she suffered rigidly through his touches and the feel of him hard and threatening pressed against her thigh. To say today hadn't exactly lived up to her expectations would have been putting it mildly, she had quite thoroughly fallen out of love with the romantic idea of Robin Hood the folk hero. Even Victorian London was looking more appealing right now.

The Castle was fairly grand she noted ignoring the comment the Sheriff made about the 'size' of it and trying to recall what the castle had looked like back in her time and coming up blank. Her eyes snapped to the cart as they entered the courtyard and she watched as the others were hauled away by the Robot Knights, their face plates securely concealing their nature once more.

"Where are they taking him?" she turned, glancing up at the Sheriff, who was watching them go with a smirk that clearly wouldn't bode well. "You said you'd be merciful." She snapped, unable to stop the instinct to slap him as it rose, fortunately he caught her hand, preventing her from shattering whatever waif like ideal he seemed to have set for her by soundly knocking him off his horse with the force she would have put behind the blow. He gripped her wrist tightly dragging her closer into his chest and twisting just enough to make her wonder if he might snap the offending limb as she grimaced as his nose almost brushed hers with his proximity.

"Your father is _alive_, is he not? I promised to spare him, nothing more, for his crime he will be a guest in our dungeons until such time as I am _satisfied_ that he poses no threat. For damaging one of my Knights the sentence should have been death, am I not being merciful?" He reminded and she tried to prise her wrist free with no luck, she couldn't even lean back for fear of falling off the damn horse, but she caught his barely subtle insinuation just fine and she grit her teeth, forcing herself to nod, because words wouldn't come. At least not the ones he wanted to hear. He slid down from the horse and she ignored his hands grateful to avoid his touch for a minute longer as she jumped down from the horse herself and landing with a thud that rattled her teeth, aware that no long term damage could be done from it.

He laughed at her, grasping her arm and slotting her alongside him as he guided her towards the castle whilst her thoughts lingered with the Doctor, she had faith in him, perhaps more so than before. He could be driven, ruthless and inventive, she hoped that would be enough to get him out of the dungeon, screwdriver or not... because currently the Sheriff held both of theirs.

* * *

><p>His head was pounding, he blinked opening his eyes and wrinkling his nose. His head might have hurt but he considered that his nose was literally screaming at him and he engaged his respiratory bypass almost on instinct. Nothing that smelt so foul could be good. He took in the dimly lit surroundings and shifted slightly, becoming aware that he was shackled and hanging from a wall. His wrists were not faring well having supported his weight for some time and he cringed as he planted his shackled feet on the filthy floor, taking the strain and letting blood flow back into them.<p>

The Doctor's eyes scanned the area quickly, assessing and coming to the conclusion that he was clearly in a dungeon, his internal clock informed him that he had been unconscious for a little over two hours. Time enough for Clara to have vanished. A quick precursory scan of the surroundings told him she wasn't here and his strained mental connection to her told him she was at least nearby. Given the conditions he couldn't say he was thrilled about that. The scruffy foul smelling ninny who'd called himself Robin Hood hung on the opposite wall to him in an equally useless predicament, although he was still out cold the Doctor noted with some satisfaction.

Unfortunately the chains were effective; he attempted a number of well practiced methods to free himself and came away frustrated and with even deeper embedded gouges in his skin for his troubles. Even more unfortunately the unkempt long haired ninny had decided to rouse himself.

"You!" he barked, staring at the Doctor with clear distaste. "You sorcerer. Heratic!" he snarled rattling his chains and forcing the Doctor to roll his eyes, wondering if he could hypnotise the idiot from this distance into just nodding back off again.

"Yes, yes. I'm a terrible spawn of Satan sent here to tempt the unwary into our wicked ways. But right now, we're in a dungeon, I'd imagine torture is probably on the menu. How about we focus on our mutual predicament."

Robin seemed to consider that, shutting his mouth for a moment and looking him up and down and considering the notion that they were indeed in the same situation. "What were those metallic creatures?" he asked finally, showing what the Doctor considered the first hint of rudimentary intelligence.

"Beyond your limited comprehension." The Doctor muttered.

"They were the Sheriff's Knights, but they were not human..." Robin managed, apparently not quite getting his head around the concept.

"This Sheriff of Nottingham," the Doctor reasoned, seeing the flare of the man's nostrils and the narrowing of his eyes, clear indications of rage directed at the mere name of the man. "I take it you and he are not on the best terms."

"He is a swine. A murdering, conniving bastard with delusions of grandeur who has made it his personal mission to spread misery and suffering throughout Nottingham." Robin actually spat on the already filthy ground with that piece said, adding disgusted to his clear animosity.

"By taxing... pillaging..." the Doctor filled in the blanks, seeing Robin's nod of agreement.

"And gold." Robin added finally telling him something he didn't know. "He's been scouring the countryside for it, ripping it out of the cold dead arms of anyone who opposes him."

"Right." The Doctor replied, growing bored already as he quietly made an assessment about what the precious metal might be for and applying that to his knowledge about the Robots starting to form a theory, whilst he reengaged the ninny "And you are opposing this injustice by what... stealing it back for the people?"

The look of confusion on Robin's face that settled into almost mockery was enough to let him know that clearly the 'legend' of Robin Hood was more fairytale than folk tale. "Ah, so you're just stealing it. How honourable." He managed to throw a suitable amount of scorn on that statement that he didn't necessarily feel, but Clara would be more than a little disappointed to find out the 'truth' about her hero.

Robin shrugged in his chains. "Man's got to eat. That bastard took my lands, my home and my name. He may as well keep honour cause it sure as hell ain't gonna keep me alive."

"Fair enough." The Doctor replied, reconsidering the ninny.

"He has your beautiful young wife you know." Robin cut across his thoughts with the one thing he'd been trying not to think about. The Doctor felt his lips press into a grim line and he narrowed his gaze at him, Robin had been just as unconscious as him, he had no way of knowing _what_ had happened to Clara anymore than he did. "The man's a bastard, but he's not stupid, or blind." Robin reasoned. "He'll have her shackled to his bed posts by now to have his wicked way with. Witch or not. Why else do you think we're alive, she probably cut a deal. I guess Sheriff is a step up from grey haired stick insect playing with magic though." He was clearly trying to get a rise. _Fool._

The Doctor felt his hands form fists and he forced himself to calm, Clara's heartbeat in his mind was resoundingly calm, a steady rhythm of beats that whilst a little faster than normal didn't indicate any real distress... or fury. Besides he had more faith in her than this idiot, if it was a fight between her and this Sheriff he knew who he'd back, if she chose to fight at all, she rather had a knack for dominating domineering men. Not that the idea of that helped soothe him any at all either. The chains rattled slightly and he glanced up at his hands, noticing the slight tremor to them and he forced himself to calm, the shaking stopped and he tried to ignore the incredible thirst in his throat like he'd been ignoring it for months. He was a Time Lord this was simple biology, of purging the toxins from his body that were trying to convince him he had managed to addict himself to that ridiculous drink; he would not be felled by it, not now when he needed to focus on getting out of these damn chains. Besides his addiction had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with the woman he was in this God forsaken Century for.


	23. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER TWENTY THREE**

The meal was unexpected from the Sheriff. She had to at least give him credit for attempting to wine and dine her in some effort to convince her that he was in fact some sort of suitor... rather than an arrogant egomaniacal bastard that was currently holding her 'father' all but to ransom. He raised his goblet in some sort of toast from the seat at the end of the ridiculously long table laden with mostly meat and she raised her own taking a swig. It was strong and fairly awful, but she thought that was probably the point, perhaps he was just trying to get her drunk; it was almost disappointing to think that the great 'Sheriff of Nottingham' was just another douchebag guy trying the same old tricks. She smirked to herself, almost pleased that her new constitution meant she'd be easily able to drink him under the table, even if it was a fleeting happiness. Back or rather _forward_ in Victorian London she had been rather irritated to note that any buzz of any drunkness she got from alcohol seemed to fade all too soon the minute it started 'damaging' her liver cells.

"You're not hungry Lady Marion?" he asked her politely, eyeing her empty plate as he reached out and took a handful of berries, popping them into his mouth and rolling them around in some display of seduction that completely overshot her. The name she'd given him stung a little and she realised that whatever history she'd hoped to observe, she'd probably thoroughly undone.

But to humour him Clara glanced over at the pigs head, the various meats she didn't dare name, the general filth encrusted on the table and what she suspected were lead plates. "I'll pass." She murmured. "For some reason I can't seem to find my appetite."

He smirked and stood, crossing to sit on the end of the table closest to her, his hand going out to play with her hair as she resisted sliding out of his touch, keeping her eyes locked on his. "Or perhaps you have an appetite for 'other' things." He all but leered, clearly he thought he was being suave, but there was an edge to the man that set off further warning bells, urging caution.

Clara swallowed down the hysterical laugh that threatened, correctly deducing it might earn her a backhand. "I'm pretty sure _that_ appetite left the building too."

His grip on her hair tightened and he slid his hand around the back of her head holding her fast and leaning in closer, his eyes on her mouth. "Such beautifully soft lips; who would imagine they could conceal a tongue so sharp?"

Clara let her lips curve up into a wicked smirk. "If you don't like my bark, I guarantee you won't enjoy my bite." She warned, keeping her tone as deliberately salacious as she could to take some of the sting out of it. A man's pride was a dangerous thing to wound after all. He cocked his head as if observing her before he let out a bark of laughter and thankfully released her, she tried not to look relieved as she took in a shaking breath, watching him pull back but remain sitting within reach of her as his hand disappeared into his tunic. He pulled out her sonic, flourishing it at her. "You certainly have a strange way with words, but I admire your directness, I find it refreshing." He traced his finger along the metal device. "Tell me this 'wand' of yours is a device of some awesome power evidently. I assume it is as capable as your father's of disabling my metal men?"

Clara pursed her lips and he grasped her chin, squeezing just a fraction too hard to be an idle gesture as he shook her face lightly, clearly he wanted an answer.

"Yes." She snapped, offering nothing more.

"Fascinating. Tell me fair one, are you from beyond the stars?" his question was abrupt, shrewd even and Clara wondered if she needed to be more careful, he knew more than he was letting on, and clearly those robots had come from somewhere. So she reached up and placed her hand over his, trying to get him to soften his grip as she leant into his touch as his hand migrated to her cheek.

"You have your mechanical army. Surely I should be asking you that question?" Clara let her tone drop slightly into a more seductive purr. She needed to use honey, not vinegar.

But the Sheriff was at least more astute than she'd given him credit for. "Do you presume to bat those big beautiful brown eyes at me and convince me to spill all of my secrets?" he smirked looking down at her, his thumb swept over her lips and she kept her teeth firmly back for fear of taking a bite out of him on reflex. But she let her own eyes sweep down across him to his lap, he clearly was effected by her, that gave her power, one that didn't require her to risk trying to take him out. Jenny had been a good teacher... but she hadn't always been the best student, unarmed combat never had been her thing. Seduction though... well she always had been a world class flirt.

Her hand slid up across his thigh feeling him tense at her touch and she leant in closer to him, her lips a breath from his, keeping her eyes deliberately wide but not in the least bit innocent. "What would you prefer I convince you with if not my eyes?" she all but purred, those same eyes dropping to his lips.

He was not the gentleman he claimed to be; he surged forward, taking her mouth hard and plundering it with his tongue until she was breathless, his hands grasping her around the waist and dragging her up out of her seat until she was trapped by his arms and the table's edge. She gasped pulling away from his mouth at the feel of him pressed against her... hard, too hard, and surprisingly cold. Clara reached down and forcefully brushed the heel of her hand against him, confirming her suspicion, as she grasped the back of his head and pulled it down, letting her teeth nip his ear as he hissed in both delight and pain.

"You're metal." She rasped against his ear, hiding her revulsion at the idea and hoping it looked like desire.

He paused, turning to glance down at her and pushing the evidence further against her stomach. "Part man, part engine." He acknowledged.

Clara tried not to ask 'why that part' squashing the comment for other more useful ones she doubted that was where the modifications ended. "What happened, did you find them, these metal men of yours? Did they come from the stars? Were there lights in the sky, beckoning you closer?" she fired off each question at him, not needing to make her tone any more breathless as she still struggled to recover the air he'd sucked out of her.

"There was fire in the sky." He replied, burying his head in her neck and returning the bite she'd offered to his ear. "And a mighty roar of flame and heat on the ground."

She raised her hands, clutching onto his shoulders and pulling him closer, letting him feel every curve she possessed pressed against him. "Almost as if they crashed into the very Earth." She offered, directing as boldly as she dared as his hands slid around to cup her ass. Her body fought a shudder from his unwanted touch and a pain lashed her mind that had her momentarily seeing stars, the sharp intake of breath she'd taken clearly making the good Sheriff think more of himself. She held him tighter trying to ground herself against the pain, as she felt the echo of her husband's heart beat almost deafening in her mind, forcing against her boundaries as the words of their bonding ceremony reverberated through her. He had always said there would be a price for betraying her vows, betraying her husband. Cursing the timing and it's ridiculous inability to distinguish between actual desire and survival, she threw up mental barriers and tried to force the understanding into her own mind. _It is a ruse, a seduction for survival. There is no betrayal_. _ I am not betraying him. _She repeated it over and over as his hands swept over her, grasping at her breasts and pushing her back onto the table, stepping between her legs as his hands began to push up the dress along her thighs. _This was not a betrayal._ She convinced herself finally, as she focussed on the utter disgust she felt, until the pain in her head receded enough that she could think clearly again.

"Tell me what you saw. I want to know, I want to hear of your bravery that night when there was fire in the sky." She urged him, her hands going to his tunic almost as if his story was driving her into a fervour as she tugged at the leather, exposing his chest as she ran her nails along the flesh, making him groan with fresh desire as he lowered his mouth to her collarbone, sucking hard on the exposed skin there.

"I saw a craft from the heavenly spheres," he rasped, his hands leaving her thighs as he settled them over her hips instead, his mouth trailing lower to brush the tops of her cleavage, "it was bedight with twinkling lights and miracles beyond imagining." He added in a low rumble, as if somehow his words were a seduction in themselves. But she was unmoved, and the mantra was still repeating in her head, her mental walls straining to contain the bond to her husband that was itching to tear free; to tear into this imposter she realised with satisfaction.

Clara let her hands trail around him, going to grasp the round globes of his leather covered ass cheeks and pressing him closer against her in the one place she'd rather he didn't, the solid metal length of him still thankfully contained by those leather pants. "And these metal men from beyond the sky, they obviously saw you as their natural Leader." he groaned loudly as she let her hips rise against his.

"They imparted their secrets to me." He admitted, silencing her questions with his mouth as he lowered his hands to her legs once more and lifted them until they were wrapped around his waist. The mantra in her head kicked up a notch and she felt the urge to tear out his eyes and rend his flesh become almost unbearable. She wasn't violent by nature, but something inside of her was demanding it of her now. "I will be the most powerful man in this realm soon enough, a King in all but name." He boasted, no doubt expecting her to be impressed.

"World domination then..." Clara laughed then, "It's always has to be the world isn't it, what Nottingham wasn't enough?" He stopped detaching his lips from her skin, his hands clamping down hard on her thighs as he realised she was mocking him.

"You mock me?" he snapped, a flash of anger colouring his features now.

"No, never your '_Majesty'_." She smirked letting him see the feral thing inside of her that was demanding she tear this pretender down, that she honour her husband. Reaching up she pressed her hands against his temples on instinct, opening a flood gate that had him screaming and recoiling, part metal or not, there was clearly enough human flesh left in his brain to be overwhelmed. Clara rolled off the table taking the sudden freedom offered to her and searching frantically for her sonic, only to realise it was somewhere in his half open tunic. His arms were flailing and he drew a dagger almost blindly swiping it in front of himself and keeping her back.

"What is this... what have you done." He howled as he clutched his head, she had never tried telepathy or a mental link of any kind with anyone but the Doctor, she never wanted to again in fact, but right now she hoped to God it would keep him down long enough for her to find a weapon as she shot along the table, finding an obscenely long carving knife buried in the mostly whole pig, more sword than knife in her hand. She grasped it, pulling it out and taking a moment to admire the wicked curve to it, the edge sharp enough to cut bone. The Sheriff rushed her from the side, throwing his somewhat substantial weight against her and they tumbled down to the floor, but she kept a hold onto the blade as she went, attempting to bury it between his shoulder blades. But it bounced off, hitting metal and she cried out as she felt his own knife slice into her abdomen and then twist stealing her breath and replacing it with raw agony.

"Such a waste." He hissed in her ear, his tongue flicking out to lick down her cheek as he drove the blade a little deeper in a move meant to kill her. But he couldn't see the gold glow she realised as she stared up at him, just his disappointment with her failure to see him for the 'great leader' he clearly wanted to be. "You would have made such a wonderful Queen."

Clara couldn't help but grin up at him despite the pain that was already beginning to recede. "Your metal men from the stars clearly didn't tell you all their secrets." The knife was still embedded in her but the damage had been repaired around it. "Or they'd have told you to watch out for women showing an interest in you... because they are clearly alien too!" She shoved upwards, rocking him off her with all of her strength and using a joint lock on his shoulder Jenny had taught her to get leverage as she landed heavily on top of him this time. Without hesitating she grasped the hilt of her own blade with two hands and brought it down soundly on his neck, severing his head.

It took her a moment to realise that the 'metal man' the Sheriff had become was mostly metal now as sparks and wires jutted from the ugly mess of his neck and it was sickeningly familiar. Hatred and suppressed fury at what had happened to her in that cold circular room in Victorian London raced through her as she stared down at his still blinking eyes in the head that had rolled free. She hated robots. Despised them in fact. And men who thought they could be robots... _well_, she brought the blade down again, driving it right between his eyes and waiting as the lights connected to his neck went out and the blinking stopped. Clara rocked back on her heels, putting distance between his lifeless body and her own before dropping the blade with a clang that startled her as it fell from her trembling hands. His blade in her gut was uncomfortable and she stared down at the blooded mass dispassionately before tugging it free to join her own abandoned one.

She'd killed him, the Sheriff of Nottingham. Or rather Maid Marion had.

Perhaps she should have been more concerned about the damage she had probably done to the timeline, but all she could think about was how she'd killed him. Without thought at all really. She hadn't even questioned the desire to end his life, or if he deserved it, or if he might still be useful to her. In that moment it honestly hadn't mattered to her, so long as he died. In fairness he'd killed her first, but fairness didn't un-stain her with this violent act. The pounding drum beat of the Doctors twinned rhythm retreated finally, falling into its familiar background noise in her mind and she sank back to the floor shocked and slightly nauseous. _Her Bow-Tied Doctor had warned there would be consequences, this version of him had reiterated that... so just what in the hell had she let them do to her?_

* * *

><p>The long haired ninny had managed to free a hand and was hastily working on the other one. The Doctor stared plaintively across at him, watching how he'd done it and deciding that without the bit of metal he'd clearly managed to stash somewhere on his person he wouldn't be able to repeat the trick.<p>

"What's your plan?" The Doctor asked him calmly, his Scottish accent thickening as he waited for a response. Robin gave him a look that suggested he didn't have one but was working on it. "I see." He commented back to the silence. "Might I suggest a new one? Free me and I'll assist you with these Knights and the _good_ Sheriff."

The ninny got his second hand free of the shackle. "And why would I have need of a decrepit old fool?" he squatted down to work on his ankles.

"Because we are in a dungeon, surrounded by those Knights, they are mechanical men from beyond the stars, who've likely got a crashed ship somewhere around here, one that is in desperate need of repairs to its engine matrix... hence all the Gold." Robin got another ankle free and the Doctor started talking a little faster. "That ship even repaired will never break orbit, not if it was crippled enough to need gold in the quantities you've described. What they are building is a giant bomb that will explode taking out half the country with it." Not that this pudding brain probably had the faintest idea of what a 'bomb' was.

He'd freed himself and headed towards the door, not once glancing in the Doctors direction. "How many men did you lose?" the Doctor called and Robin paused. "Did you take down even one of his metal Knights?" Their eyes met and the Doctor smiled coldly. "I did." He watched the indecision play out across the so called 'hero's' face. "There is nowhere to run, that explosion will kill you. Free me and I'll stop it."

Robin sighed. "I'm sure I'll regret this." He muttered stalking towards him and with both hands making relatively short work of his first shackle.

"Probably." The Doctor conceded. "But where's your sense of adventure?"

The escape attempt was proving more difficult than anticipated the Doctor noted as he and Robin Hood of all people ducked out of sight of yet more robotic Knights, that were patrolling what appeared to be the actual dungeons, where all the 'resistant' citizens to the Sheriff's regime and just those poor unfortunate blighters in the wrong place at the wrong time had ended up. They had been put to work in the giant gold vats, melting down their precious valuables and printing out sheets of what the doctor recognised as circuitry and other engine components. It was under such a vat cleverly disguised by simply not disguising it at all he noticed the exhaust shafts for the vessel that had been reconstructed inside the castle, as it rose up towering above the ignorant pudding brains who would be vaporized along with half the country when it attempted to ignite.

"By the Gods, what is that?" Robin asked; this particular pudding brain had at least looked up the Doctor noted.

"A ship, one that these idiots think is capable of leaving this world."

"Impossible." Robin declared inadvertently agreeing with him even if he had no idea why he was right in his ignorance.

"Normally no, it's just about thrust. Sadly this engine will never achieve enough critical mass to do so. Like I said it's just a very large, very futuristic explosion waiting to happen." The Doctor grumbled watching the Knights as they went about keeping the workers in line. Clearly they had some idea of what was needed to repair their vessel but the fact that they seemed incapable of understanding it wouldn't work suggested they were nothing more than worker drones missing a command element. Dangerous, as he'd seen unfortunately on more than one occasion. At least Cybermen blew you up on purpose, this accidental near destruction of the human race would have been laughable if it wasn't so tragic.

Robin gave him a look that he recognised all too well, 'glazed' he'd call it. The poor fool had probably never even seen an explosion before. "It's going to rain fire. Lots of it." The Doctor amended. "I suggest we not be here for that." He jerked his thumb indicating they should retreat, back into the castle. "I need to get up into that thing." The Doctor pointed up, and headed for the nearest stairs hoping if nothing else that height might gain perspective. That and he suspected that the Sheriff and Clara would be upwards, in the furthest point from the dungeons.

Robin followed, grumbling about his men, all of whom had been in that dungeon and he hadn't lifted a finger to rescue the Doctor pointed out, which had earned him blessedly stony silence as they reached a dead end. Or rather it should have been, the castle wall had been removed and replaced with a metallic one complete with its own access panel. The Doctor grinned, technology he could do. Getting in was childsplay and he ignored Robin's protests about entering the Devil's sanctum, the idiot could stay outside for all he cared he'd just needed him to get out of the cuffs. He didn't recognise the layout or design, not that it mattered as he strode in towards the centre console and began tapping into its central operations. He pulled up the nav computer, confirming his suspicions about the crash and oddly enough where they had been going. 'The Promised Land'. The words flashed out at him and he stood back ramrod straight as he recalled the deranged Half-faced man's words. He'd thought he'd been going there too. What the hell was this the Robot Holy Grail? The search for some meaning to their hollow existences. There was a sphere displayed that looked vaguely planet like although clearly a construction of engineering rather than a celestial event, but clearly they thought it was an actual place with actual coordinates. Not that those were available to him, they seemed to have been scrambled in the crash. He slammed his hands into the console in frustration.

"Good news?" Robin quipped as he came to stand beside him, his eyes darting from one unfamiliar corner of the room to the other as he studiously avoided looking at the 'devilry' all around him the Doctor noted.

"No. They're idiots. Worse their possibly religious ones, who think they might be going to a heaven someplace, which might just turn out to be real."

Robin nodded. "And this skyfire you mentioned?"

"Imminent." The Doctor muttered. "Which given as its 12th Century England it's about to decimate, if I don't avert it there's a very real possibility my wife might cease to exist." Which was hardly a thought worth bearing so he didn't; Robin meanwhile was giving him a very odd look.

"You are quite mad, you do realise that." Robin told him pointedly.

"And yet not mad enough. I'm still going to be saving this wretched planet." The Doctor muttered. "But I don't need you anymore,so bugger off would you... go be a hero or something. Why not give rescuing those people in the dungeons a whirl, or even just go back for your men before they all get incinerated by the engines."

Robin looked irritated and mostly like he thought it was something of a tall order. "Hero's tend to get rewarded." Robin muttered.

The Doctor rolled his eyes, some hero. "The dungeon is practically rolling in gold, why don't you consider that hazard pay. The more villagers you can save, the more arms you have to hold your gold." That idea seemed to perk him right up if the wry grin he gave was anything to go by.

"What about the Knights?"

The Doctor let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh for heaven's sake do I have to think of everything you pudding brain." He spun on the idiot, grasping him by his shirt and all but lifting him as he physically pushed him out the door. "I'm sure if you _reflect_ on the situation... maybe all that gold around you and in your arms, that even you might come up with a solution to how to possibly turn the Knights weapons back on themselves." He slammed the door on Robin's bewildered face and he let out a tut at the general state of humanity that the idiot behind that door could have been anyone's idea of a legend. He suspected he'd probably get himself atomised whilst trying to run away with an armful of gold, but honestly he couldn't care less what happened to the story of Robin Hood. He was more concerned with making sure his own love story didn't go up in smoke.

Agonising pain lashed through him and he crumpled against the console for a moment, the sound of Clara's voice echoing in his head 'It's not a betrayal, it's not.' His wife was in clear distress he could feel the staccato rhythm of her hearts, and the emotional turmoil pulling at her as their bond yanked its leash. He felt his fist curl, knowing the reason his bond would be flaring like that, why she would need a mantra like that and it didn't help his black mood any.

He curled his fists and focused on the job at hand. Saving said wife from non-existence had to come first, he'd save her physically after. And if the Sheriff had laid so much as a finger on her he'd teach him what it was to be a villain.

Unfortunately he really needed his screwdriver to fix this damn thing, but he didn't have it, which meant the best he could hope for was to make such a hash job of their ignition sequence that the damn thing wouldn't even get off the ground. Of course that would also leave a stonking great space ship in the middle of Sherwood Castle... he rubbed his forehead. The damn thing just needed to take off, he didn't need it to actually make orbit, just blow up without going critical safely away from the population. He pushed at the buttons viciously, determining that it had enough power to ignite, enough to sustain a burn even, just not for long. But then the power distribution was all off, the idiots were still trying to maintain life support... which on a ship full of robots was beyond redundant. He found several other systems that they didn't need and shut those down too, by the time he was done he'd found another 25% power, enough to reach orbit. _Pity_.

He wasn't in the mood to be merciful, he'd been locked in a dungeon and his wife was in real distress, he'd felt the moment when it changed from the bond threatening her vows... to panic, real danger. Then it had all gone quiet. The Doctor rubbed his temple in confusion and no small amount of fear, shutting down her connection like that had only happened once before when she'd been in too much pain to cope. He felt something close to a growl tear from him and he flicked the final buttons, inputting the new commands that would ensure that the blasted ship did indeed make orbit... and would then self destruct. With a grim determination he sent out the recall command, which would have all the tin Knights marching back into their waiting ship on its way to the 'Promised Land'. _Idiots. There was no salvation, no safe haven, no peace, not for anyone, anywhere, let alone a bunch of robots._

That done he spun on his heel, breaking into a long loping run as he followed the pull to the only Promised Land that he believed in... the sound of Clara's tenuous heartbeat thrumming through his mind.

* * *

><p>He found Clara, although he was somewhat distressed by the sight of her, on her knees, staring at the headless corpse of the Sheriff, a long wicked blade beside her and a blooded pool in her abdomen matched with the vacant expression on her face, all of this telling him she really wasn't alright. His hearts wrenched painfully as he all but skidded to a halt beside her, his hands hesitantly going to her shoulders, frightened to startle her but unable to stop himself from reaching out to touch her.<p>

"Clara... Clara, Clara, my Clara." He murmured against her ear and she visibly slumped against his solid chest as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her hair.

"I killed him." She rasped; her eyes still on the head, the dead eyes of which were staring accusingly back at her; the Doctor rather imagined the surprise left on his dying face was earned.

"He tried to rape you." He murmured, having deduced that much from their somewhat uneven connection earlier, her still fully clothed state, albeit dishevelled, suggested he'd failed.

"Actually he tried to rape me, then kill me. There might have even been a marriage proposal somewhere in there too." Her voice was taut with tension and no small amount of bitterness as she finally tore her eyes away from him. "I don't have much luck with robots." She added darkly, looking up at him and he felt his breath catch the way it always did when she gave him her undivided attention like that.

"I'm sorry." He tried and she shook her head violently, banishing his apology that he wasn't here, that he'd been left unconscious and useless as he helped her to her feet, his arms remaining tightly around her still slightly trembling form. He chose not to correct her 'robot' assumption with the more correct term cyborg, assuming that she didn't need the distinction laying out before her right now. Particularly not when he suspected that it was the human part of these man-machines that was causing all the bother.

"I didn't even stop to consider if he deserved to die for it though." She admitted, "I just killed him."

"Oh he deserved it..." the Doctor added darkly, for laying a finger on his wife he deserved far worse than death, but he doubted she'd see it that way, "he was about to blow up most of England Love."

Clara glanced up at him, frowning. "Really?" she asked glancing back down at the dead man, "I thought he just wanted to march his Knights up to London and crown himself King."

The Doctor snorted. "He might have, but his programming was sending him and his ship straight to this 'Promised Land' again, taking a large chunk of History with it."

Clara's expression grew more concerned, as it should, this Promised Land business seemed to be weaving a web around them, drawing them in until it was no doubt intended to trap them. "Come on, let's get back to the TARDIS."

"What about the Knights... the England blowing up bit?" Clara questioned as he pulled her along behind him at a tight clip.

"Fixed. The ship will explode safely beyond Earth's atmosphere." He dragged her down the stone stairs, flying through the castle. Knowing that he didn't want to be in what was likely about to become a smoking ruin when the engines ignited, which if his calculations were correct would be in mere minutes.

"And Robin Hood?" Clara asked, tugging on his hand slightly, he glanced back to see her pinched expression.

"Long gone by now, I'm afraid to say Clara, this is why you should never meet your hero's, always a disappointment."

She gave him one long dark look and nodded abruptly, her lower lip was still trembling slightly he realised and he brushed her cheek with his thumb, wanting to get her out of here and back safely aboard the TARDIS. "At least Maid Marion made an impression." He offered and it drew a very small quirk of her lips and a fleeting lightness to her eyes that he cherished because he'd managed to put it there.

* * *

><p>Clara followed the Doctor into the TARDIS, the doors closing behind her as she blinked away the sight of the exploding ship in the Earth's upper atmosphere, she was starting to suspect that something was targeting the two of them, something with a robotic fixation. The Doctor didn't waste any time he was throwing levers and the Old Girl responded as she seemed to get them out of there in a hurry. Clara merely stood there, her arms wrapped around herself as she tried to make sense of what had just happened to her. The Doctor approached her carefully, his expression wary and fierce all at once, she could tell he wanted to coddle her, wrap her away somewhere and keep her from harm. <em>Poor man, he never could keep his Companions safe, what chance did he stand with his wife?<em>

His long strong fingers captured her face and he drew her gaze onto his, he didn't need to speak, she merely nodded and let him take her by the hand and lead her through the ship to their bedroom, which he bypassed until he reached the bathroom. Clara stood inside the large room, staring at the large sunken bath and letting him quietly but efficiently begin to get it ready for her. She didn't ask how he knew she needed it, he was her husband after all, even if he wasn't able to get inside her head right now. He approached her cautiously and slid around behind her his hands going gently onto her shoulders. "May I?" he asked quietly and she sighed, dropping her head.

"Since when did you ever ask for anything." She replied, wondering how it was she'd managed to find herself with this version of him and being almost relieved it was this way around, "Particularly when it comes to undressing me?" But she nodded giving the assent he never really needed.

He pressed a kiss to her ear. "Humour me?" He asked, his hands already moving to slide her beautiful medieval gown from her shoulders and she appreciated his efforts to be considerate, or his version of it. She shivered slightly at his touch as he swept his hands down her bare arms, deftly undoing the simple tie at her waist and letting the now ruined dress fall to a pool at her feet, the feeling sparking the memory of the fury that had whipped through her when Nottingham's hands had dared even less. He would have raped her, metal appendage or not she was certain of it, she'd had no choice really and he had stabbed her first, there was no doubt he'd been the villain of the piece. It didn't make her feel any less wretched though because she knew the truth... she'd _wanted_ to kill him. Intent. That was always the point, the thing that justified murdering someone.

The Doctor eased them both into the wonderfully warm bath and she leant back against his wiry frame, letting his arms come around her as she closed her eyes, the soft thud of his hearts against her back a reminder of the crescendo they had beat to inside her head. The madness the sound had unleashed in her.

"What was that?" she asked him, keeping her eyes closed as she clutched his hand across her chest.

"You may need to specify a tad more." He grumbled, his voice sounding almost as weary as she felt.

"When he touched me... when I touched him, kissed him," she stumbled over the last word, loathing that she had to admit to it and knowing she'd been in no position to do much else. "I felt it, felt you, felt this... _marriage_ I suppose. And it was pissed off."

The Doctor sighed and slid his arm further around her middle, drawing her closer into him. "A consequence." He replied, which was no help at all, and nothing she hadn't already figured out for herself.

"You said that before... explain." She bit out, gripping his hand tighter to prevent the distraction she was certain he'd attempt if she didn't. "It made me kill him... it made me _want_ to kill him." She added hating admitting to it and feeling her anger at herself redirecting.

The Doctor let out a soft sound that would have bordered on exasperation if it hadn't been so desperately sad and she turned to look up at him, managing only to see his side profile. "You asked me not to lie to you, but I think it would be a kindness if you let me now." He admitted.

Clara turned away from him, staring at the foamy water surrounding her, at his hand splayed across her stomach, the feel of his legs stretched out alongside hers, the brush of his mind at the back of hers. All of it grounding her to this man. "Just the truth Doctor." She insisted, not sure in the least it was what she wanted anymore, their relationship was still so fragile, hanging on by their fingernails.

"Time Lords were... _are_ a cruel race," he amended berating himself, "but they were not monsters. The bond we took was sacred, you know that, and part of its nature was telepathic. A merging if you will." Clara nodded, this she knew. "But it cannot take your free will from you Clara. It can force you to look at yourself, to feel it all, maybe even suggest, but it can never control you or your actions. If you wanted him dead... then that was you. The bond when activated in that way is merely a way of ensuring transparency between married pairs. The truth always hurts." He added darkly.

Clara digested that quietly, so it was an early warning then, a way of preventing adultery being kept a dirty little secret amongst Time Lords... nothing more. She had no one to blame but herself. "You felt it then, what was happening?"

His hands fell away from her slightly. "I felt your terror, your rage, the panic that filled you, the revulsion. I was under no illusions as to what was happening." He added sounding ill and furious at the same time. "Like I said... a cruel race."

Clara threaded her fingers back through his and shifted so that she was lying more firmly against him. "I've changed my mind. Lie to me instead."

He hesitated a moment, before lifting one hand free of hers and threading it through her damp hair. "Your are blameless." He told her, the sincerity in his words and the force in which he pushed them into her mind as he pressed a kiss to her head almost had her believing him.

For once there was nothing sexual between them, he simply held her, let her work through her tumultuous emotions as he gently washed away all traces of the Sheriff and 12th Century fairy tales which had so thoroughly shattered her faith. She still had one hero she mused as she pressed a kiss to the rough skin under his jaw and let him hold her as close as he could manage.

"Perhaps you should pick our next date... maybe somewhere with indoor plumbing." She offered as he took her hand helping her out of the tub, his coquettish smile was evident as he threw a massive towel around her, his gentle touch almost enough to banish her recent encounter.

"So there's another date?" he murmured looking pleased, and relieved and more than a little disappointed as well she noted as he turned away from her trying to hide it.

"Hey." She called after him, catching his hand and tugging him back to face her, her hand going to his cheek as his eyes closed firmly and he placed his own hand over hers. "You thought I was home..." she trailed off realising his mistake and perhaps hers for leading him on so thoroughly. He always got carried away with things when it involved a trip in his TARDIS. Clara leaned closer so that their noses almost brushed which meant she had to strain her toes to reach him. "I just need more..."

"Time!" he snarled completing her sentence for her as he grasped her hand firmly at the wrist and forcefully removed it from his face, the real flash of anger there startling her. "I am a Lord of Time and yet even I can't give you all that you need." He all but growled and she felt her lips press into a thin line at the bitterness there as he wrapped a towel around his waist and stalked from the room leaving her watching after him with a startled expression on her face. The sudden turn to this soft moment between them leaving her reeling.

But she could understand his reaction, hell half the time she wasn't sure herself why she had kept this 'separation' between them. A guilty part of her brain reminded her that she was seeking ways to take the power back that he'd stolen from her when he'd done this to her body and turned their sexual power plays into something darker. He'd always accused her of being a control freak and she realised with a sinking feeling how right he really was. _Wicked wife_. Wasn't that what he always called her?

Clara hurried after him, her towel wrapped around her slightly chilled form as she sprinted on bare feet through the TARDIS, surprised when she came to the console room to find him hastily shoving buttons.

"Doctor." She called and he ignored her... a first. She approached and he deliberately slid around the other side staring at her coldly from beneath his lowered brow.

"I've done everything I can." He told her with quiet certainty, "I have been the picture of patience..."

"I know... I just..." she tried and he cut her off again with an irritated wave of his hand.

"I, I, I, it's always _you_ isn't it. I see you've really got a hold on that egomania of yours my dear."

Clara felt his anger whip her like a lash and she stood her ground, her eyes narrowing as she glared at him. Clearly he'd forgotten why she'd pulled away from him in the first place. But he didn't give her time to formulate a reply, or even run up a head of steam.

"If it's time you want, time you shall have." He told her the chill in his voice stilled her and she clutched the towel tighter as if it would offer some protection as her heart thumped wildly in her chest in mild panic and confusion that it had gotten so wrong so quickly between them. "Call me why don't you when you're ready to be a wife again. Until then stop bloody tormenting me like some siren." He shoved a lever.

Clara opened her mouth and blinked as she literally saw stars, before she materialised in her bedroom at 13 Paternoster row in quite literally just her towel, her hair dripping a puddle onto the floor around her as she stood there in shock. He'd transmatted her. Clara turned and glanced at the mobile phone that still sat on her nightstand only now it was joined by her sonic; she considered calling it just to shout at him, but her hand hovered and she withdrew. She hadn't seen him that angry before, not like that, not with her and if nothing else she knew her husband was not a man to be trifled with when you managed to make him angry. But he'd done what she'd asked, delivered her back to Victorian London to give her 'time', although she suspected perhaps that this time it might be longer than she'd anticipated.


	24. Chapter 24

_**Authors Note: Merry Xmas and Happy New Year all. This Chapter's a little longer so consider it an Xmas present. Also if I don't upload the next Chapter within the 2 weeks I usually do it's most likely I had a baby, but not to worry I have a few more Chapters written so I'll update when I can.**  
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><p><strong>CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR<strong>

There were no two ways about it, she missed her husband... although missed was such a trite word for the ache in her chest, _needed_ was closer to it. Clara had always missed the Doctor when he wasn't there, even before he was her husband, that year she'd been forced to spend apart from him, though paling into insignificance next to the millennia he'd spent waiting, had been torture enough. Now though she felt the punishment that this clearly was keenly and began to get an idea of the kind of pain she'd put him through these past six months. After all whilst she'd felt she'd needed and had indeed benefited from their time apart, it had been entirely on _her_ terms. She'd set the pace, known even as she waved him off on those days to wait another week, that he would in fact return. And most importantly she'd known that one day soon she'd simply step back inside the TARDIS with him for good.

This though... this was torture and this had been his existence. She had no idea when and if he'd return for her, had no control over how long it might be, no idea what he was doing out there without her, what kind of trouble he was getting into. All she had was an empty bed and the knowledge that it was entirely her own doing. He'd been patient, he'd been the perfect husband in fact these past few months and instead of rewarding that she'd tried to keep her vaunted control over him that little bit longer, to tug the leash she'd unwittingly placed around his neck to breaking point; and the inevitable had happened, it had snapped.

The Doctor was gone. Furious and alone. And God did she want to take back those last few moments. To wrap her arms around him and tell him to take them somewhere blissful, give them a second honeymoon, erase the memories of robots and poison darts and just start over as husband and wife. Though Vastra and Jenny never said anything directly to her about it she felt their disapproval keenly and it only worsened the gnawing guilt in her gut and the ache in her chest.

So of course she tried to call him, once a day, every day for a month. He didn't pick up. Clara set the phone down uneasily and hugged her knees closer to her chest as she stared at the silent plastic object on her Victorian nightstand from her large empty bed. She supposed she deserved a taste of her own medicine a little, to have to be the one to wait for him. What was a month when he had waited millennia only to be rejected by her for being a darker... older, less agreeable version of himself when he'd finally managed to crawl from the ruins of Trenzalore.

_Three months later_

Her phone smashed against the wall with a satisfying crash, shattering into a thousand plastic and metal pieces and no doubt disturbing the other occupants of the house, who would out of sheer Victorian propriety not come to investigate why she was making such a damn racket in the middle of the night.

Clara stared at the pieces and felt her hands curl into fists. This wasn't fair, she'd had genuine reason to need time apart, several in fact. So she'd maybe strung him along a little too much, she didn't deserve to be stranded in Victorian London worried sick about him. Slumping heavily into the arm chair that had been so frequently his she buried her hands in her hair and tried not to let a sob wrack her.

_"I'm sorry!"_ she hissed into the empty room. _"Please just come back."_

Of course her silent pleas, the one she'd whispered almost every night for months went unanswered and she felt hot tears splash across her cheeks. Closing her eyes she projected the thought inward, grasping the sonic that had once been her lifeline to a different version of him and willing her thoughts along the telepathic link it had once created. Even as she did it she knew it was futile. The energy from the rift that had powered the link was long gone, as was her connection to the man who'd created it. In his place was another, more restrained mind, one that was deliberately closed to her now.

Her fingers curled around the metal and she bowed her head feeling the hum of it go through her unique wedding band and she blinked... her head shot up and she stared at the ring on her finger and then back at the sonic. Two aspects of the same thing, the TARDIS. Clara stood and stared between the two of them, turning the sonic over in her fingers and pointing it at the remnants of the key that now made up her ring. She supposed she'd tried everything else, why not see if the Old Girl was listening, after all you couldn't fly the TARDIS by remote, but you could sure as hell call out for a lift.

Clara flooded her thoughts with mental projections of home, of the Doctor, of anything to get the TARDIS' attention as she ramped up the settings on the sonic, pointing it directly at the ring on her left hand which had begun to glow faintly emitting a warm heat against her skin. There was no way of knowing if she was doing it correctly, all she could do was hope, praying out to a sentient machine to bring her husband back to her.

Apparently the Old Girl was listening. The sound of the engines broke through the silence of her moonlight dappled room and Clara clutched the sonic tightly to her chest, staring in mild disbelief that the familiar blue box was indeed materialising in her bedroom. She could and did decide to kiss the fully materialised doors, her hands lingering on the paintwork for a moment as she rushed towards them, feeling the distinctive brush of the TARDIS' telepathic circuits all but embracing her once more.

"I missed you too." She murmured, her fingers tracing the distinctive badges on the front of the doors. "Thank you." She offered, pulling the door outwards to let her in and hurrying inside in case the Doctor took back control from the Old Girl and decided to fly away once more.

She needn't have worried, the control room was empty... and in disarray. Clara stood in the entrance staring in mild horror at the sight. His chalk boards were full, there were papers everywhere, books strewn and torn about, items and doohickeys half dismantled, and almost everywhere there was the same word scrawled in his elegant script that she'd know anywhere... '_LISTEN'._

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><p>Cautiously and aware with sudden and startling clarity that the Doctor had always teetered on the brink of madness she stepped into the chaos, carefully shifting around the objects and trying not to look too closely at drawings of her that littered the floor. Some perfectly beautiful, others far more disturbing, one such caught her eye and she gasped turning away and toeing the offending picture under something else to cover it. They were just fantasies she surmised, warped thoughts from his clearly addled mind trying to process his anger with her. They didn't mean anything... other than that she needed to find him.<p>

"Where is he?" she asked the Old Girl aloud, not surprised when a trail of lights materialised on the floor and ran up to a wall for her to follow out of the control room. Clara moved towards it but as she did the door vanished leaving a smooth metal surface and she stopped turning back to look at the matrix understanding perfectly the Old Girl's sentiment. "I'm not going to hurt him, I promise you, I'm here to help him." She promised, hating that she had to. The lights flashed but the door didn't budge and Clara looked between it, the flashing matrix and the chaotic console room taking it all in and bowing her head in realisation. "I'm home Old Girl. I promise. I won't leave again, I won't leave _him_ again." The door didn't budge and Clara frowned staring back at the machine and feeling the pull of her telepathic circuits. "I won't leave _you_ again either." She amended and the door slid up, but not before the Old Girl brushed her with the distinct desire for caution. Clara nodded perfectly aware that following the Doctor into the depths of his madness was probably not the wisest decision she'd ever made, but then she'd been the one to shove him over that edge, he was still clinging to her she could feel it in every wild thump of his hearts... she'd be damned if she wasn't going after him.

She didn't need the TARDIS lighting her way towards him, which whilst oddly helpful was also slightly ominous, as if the Old Girl really couldn't afford for her to get lost. Also it was mostly unnecessary he seemed to have left a trail of breadcrumbs in the form of empty bottles that littered the walkways. She suspected given as the TARDIS could dematerialise waste and rubbish that they had been left their deliberately either for her or for him, the TARDIS' way of showing her disapproval.

"What has he been drinking?" she asked the Old Girl, watching as information flickered up on the wall which had suddenly become an electronic interface. Clara blinked staring at the scrawling information and bit the knuckle of her index finger, not having realised her nervous gesture had returned and she hastily dropped it, gripping her hands into fists. _Right. Not good_. She glanced at the offending bottles one more time and surmised that he'd probably been drinking for a very long time, most likely since she'd stepped out of the TARDIS and into Victorian London without him for the first time. "Has it addled his brain?" Clara asked uneasily the side effects of his wretched drink of choice sounded horrific, but she was forced to wait and watch helplessly as the TARDIS complied and pulled up his medical information, displaying her assessments. _No permanent damage, toxin filtering system requires engagement. _ Well that was a relief at least, she just had to get him clean again and he'd be fine, at least there were some perks to marrying an alien who was physically incapable of becoming a raging alcoholic. But that didn't help her with the realisation that she'd clearly driven him to _want_ to be.

Clara reached her hand up brushing the flickering image of her husband's internal structure and hoping that she really could fix this. She's just wanted time to get her own head straight, not utterly upend his. The image vanished and she concentrated on putting one somewhat heavier foot in front of the other as she traversed the corridors realising that she was being led towards the library. She'd barely managed a step inside the darkened halls when she was grabbed violently around the waist and a hand clamped over her mouth.

"Shhhh..." his accent was distinctive, as was his mostly unwashed smell and she managed not to bite him with the shock of it as she was pulled back into a dark corner feeling the press of him against her. "They are watching... hiding." He hissed.

Clara found that statement somewhat more alarming until she recalled just how many bottles she'd seen littering the TARDIS floor. But he wasn't exactly giving her many options her mouth was firmly prised shut so she merely nodded, feeling it loosen.

"Good." He murmured, then he seemed to pause, his hand around her waist tightened reflexively as he seemed to examine her. "You're getting better at the hard-light voice interface Old Girl." He sighed, burying his head in her neck, "You even got her smell right this time."

Clara froze and an unpleasant suspicion formed as he finally lowered his hand from her mouth. "Doctor... I'm real." She told him quietly.

He barked out a laugh that was almost callous. "Oh yes... this game again. But not right now, I'm not in the mood. There are beasties lurking in the shadows."

Clara turned in his grasp, her hands going up to capture his face in her hands, startled at how wide his pupils were, there was hardly any blue left in his irises as she tried to get him to focus on her but those same eyes were darting all over the room. "Doctor. Look at me. It's me, really me, your Clara." She tried to insist, but he just scoffed and threw her hands roughly off his face.

"Not now Old Girl. Disengage visual interface." He tried to shove past her but she was unmoving and she grasped his wrists.

"I'm just going to pretend I haven't heard any of that..." Clara managed weakly, thinking it was probably for the best that she didn't dwell on the idea of the TARDIS taking her shape, especially not with some sort of hard-light drive to make her solid. "But you need to stop and look at me. Because this _is_ me. I summoned the TARDIS and she came. I'm home." She told him firmly and he finally looked at her face, his mouth opening and closing but no words seemed to come out and for the first time she realised there was a tremor to his hands that she imagined was probably the drink... or the lack of sleep, she hadn't seen him look this bad since he'd had to regenerate. He took in a rattling breath and his hands went to her face with unnerving strength as he spun them, shoving her hard into the stacks and pushing them deeper into the shadows.

"Clara?" he hissed, his fingers traced across her lips and down her nose, until he leant in and quite deliberately licked her neck, leaning back to analyse the taste.

"Who else would I be?" she hissed, finding his behaviour harder to handle than she'd hoped.

"Active camouflage, possibly... it's an ingenious method of _hiding_."

Clara grasped his wrists trying to get him to let up on his grip as she leant forward, her breath mingling with his and she could smell the sweet scent of the drink there. "I'm here, I'm home and I'm sorry it's taken me so long. But I need you to sober up and tell me what the hell is going on."

He cocked his head as if examining her. "Can't." He murmured. "Too much to do, got to find them."

Clara nodded, as he pulled away and she considered all the words she could say, she considered simply snogging him until he surrendered but in the end the large heavy book was in her hand before she really considered it as she hefted it with enough strength to have him stumbling and looking back at her in shock his hand to his damaged head... before she smacked him again and he slumped to his feet unconscious.

"You silly old man." She murmured, ducking down to cradle his damaged head as she took in his severely careworn appearance, "What on Earth have you done to yourself?" She could hardly believe that this was because of her... she'd thought him so much stronger than that, could never have really conceived that this version of him would need her _this_ badly. His Bow Tied self would have missed her, terribly so, and he had, but he hadn't driven himself to this state over it, he'd just get on busying himself with the next adventure. Whilst her ego was a little thrilled with the proof of how much she meant to him, the more astute part of her realised the more dangerous and frankly disturbing implications. But she had no choice, this was her doing, she had to fix it.

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><p>The Doctor blinked, his eyes shooting open as he scanned the area, his head pounding with remembered pain. He'd been knocked unconscious... possibly by his wife, which seemed unlikely on both counts. He was in his bed, wrapped in a blanket, naked and he felt and smelt distinctly cleaner than he last recalled. He glanced down the bedcovers at himself and frowned. He looked up just in time to see Clara walk through the door, she was wearing the red silken nightdress and robe. The ones he'd forbidden the TARDIS from replicating in his simulations.<p>

He closed his eyes. He'd clearly lost his mind, finally. The bed bowed and he flinched, trying to focus on banishing the apparition, this clearly wasn't the Old Girl, she knew better than to torment him, which meant it was his addled mind. He really needed to flush his system of that god forsaken drink; he didn't want to see _her_ right now.

Her fingers touched his skin and his eyes shot open finding her soft brown ones inches from him as she eased onto the bed beside him. "It's me, I'm not an hallucination or a projection. Just me." She promised and he snorted with derision, '_that was what they always said'_.

"You were filthy so I gave you a sponge bath." She explained looking nervous, "I'm sorry but I couldn't really hold you up in the shower, or pull you out of an actual bath." He frowned at her, absorbing the words as his hands rose to his own face as he felt the brush of her breath across his newly sensitive chin. "I shaved you." She added, indicating his smooth chin.

_She was real_. _ His Clara_. Even his own depraved mind had never conjured the idea of her sponging and shaving him, it was just something a wife would do on finding her husband in such a state and he was momentarily stunned. His mouth had other ideas though. "You hit me." It ground out, a little hoarsely and he tried to suppress the wince that of all the things he'd wanted and dreamt of saying to her since he'd thrown her off his ship in a fit of pique, that hadn't been it.

She looked down at her hands, not meeting his eyes, "Yes, I'm sorry, but you were practically delirious. I didn't want you to hurt yourself... or me." She admitted still not looking at him.

He absorbed that quietly, his eyes taking in her features as she sat merely inches from him. It had been far too long... he wasn't entirely sure how long, he couldn't bear to count the passage of time so he'd merely let it drift. He wondered how long it had been for her. His somewhat lethargic mind reminded him of her words from before the head injury, that she'd summoned the TARDIS. Perhaps it had been only minutes for her since Sherwood. Days maybe, even weeks._ Nothing_.

"You left me." She accused albeit lightly her tone uneasy as if she wasn't sure where they stood now, but the words hit him like her blow to the head had.

"Yes." He admitted, watching as her fingers crept towards his hand and slid along his fingers, tracing the outline of them and smoothing over the knuckles. He expected a few things after that; mostly a verbal lashing. What he didn't expect was the tears that leaked from her eyes to run in rivulets down her cheeks.

"Please don't do that again... not like that." Her plea was raw and he felt something tear at his chest, 5ft 1 and crying, he never stood a chance. He reached for her, pulling her into his arms and onto his chest, burying his face against her hair and just holding her whilst she sobbed_. Why was he always making his wife cry? Why couldn't he just make her happy, like he used to?_

He knew he should apologise, say something to soothe her but the words wouldn't come, he wasn't in the least bit sorry for stranding her, he'd needed her away if she wouldn't truly be his wife... and certainly not if stranding her had worked exactly as he'd hoped and had her miss him enough to come back all of her own accord. _Manipulative bastard_, wasn't that what she always accused? He held her tighter, turning them over until he was pinning her beneath him and lifted his head to take in the sight of her that no simulation or memory could ever surpass.

"How long?" he asked quietly, his fingers tracing down her throat across the gentle swell of her breasts hidden beneath the silken gown.

"Three months." She replied, her eyes wide and reddened as she stared up at him almost hesitantly.

He nodded, biting back the comment, it had been so much longer for him, but then who's fault was that he supposed? "And are you here to stay this time, or was this just a social call to check in on the errant husband?"

She bit her lip and he brushed his thumb over the pinkened flesh as she released it, sliding more fully on top of her and enjoying the way his nakedness felt against the silk and skin of her.

"I'm home." She admitted quietly, looking away and he grasped her chin firmly forcing her face back onto his, wanting to see the truth written there. "For good." She added knowing what he needed to hear. It wasn't the glowing declaration of undying love and devotion from her he craved, but he would take it.

He nodded grimly, not wanting to trust the swell of emotions the thought brought and how it alleviated the ache in his chest just yet. His wife had learnt a lot from him, lying amongst the first of her borrowed skills. He let his hands trace a path down her sides, brushing lightly as he went, remapping her shape.

"But..." she started and he tensed his hands tightening their grip as he shot her a dark look, his hearts beginning to thump wildly with barely suppressed rage, _she would not do this again, she would not torment him further!_ As his overactive mind conjured all the 'buts' she might declare. "You have to stop drinking that awful stuff." She asked quietly and he felt the tension leave him slightly at her perfectly reasonable request, "I need you to purge your system of it, I can't I tried but your physiology is complicated and mostly under your own control from what the TARDIS explained to me."

He grunted and dropped his head to her throat, kissing the soft skin there and merely inhaling the scent of her as it wrapped around him like a comforting balm. "Fine. I don't need it if you're here." He conceded and he felt her chest release a puff of air in what he assumed was relief.

"I also deleted every one of those visual voice interface programmes." Her tone was sharper now, more confident and he felt her fingers grip into his short hair, the nails just a whisper against his scalp; a warning. He remained still, thinking it perhaps for the best if he not respond at all to that, but he was curious to know if she'd viewed them all beforehand, if she knew the lengths to which his depraved mind had occasionally taken him. "I didn't look." She answered his unasked question, "The idea was bad enough, besides your fantasies are your own. And given the situation I'm going to give you a onetime only pass on it." Her fingers gripped his hair and she tugged him up sharply enough that he had to look her in the eyes which had darkened and her nostrils flared wonderfully with her anger. "But if you so much as think about creating another one of those, it will be the only type of sexual release you get from me ever again."

His mouth curved up into a smirk as he buried his lips against her throat again biting down a little sharply, "Yes boss." He murmured, knowing that he had no need of his little diversions any more. But his mind was whirring having her here beneath him, knowing that she'd missed him, needed him, had to come back and was willingly lying beneath him even knowing the state he'd let himself fall into. He'd always thought she had all of the power in this relationship, certainly emotionally and sexually, he couldn't help but tease her with it now.

"Don't I at least get bonus points for the fact that I could have conjured the image of anyone, anywhere... and all I wanted was yours?" He punctuated his last word with a press of his hips angling them into her pelvis and letting her feel how many points he thought he actually deserved for that.

She let out a sound close to a groan and he smirked again, as she buried her lips against his own neck and bit him without much gentleness. "No." she muttered, "That just tells me that your brain is less addled than I feared. Even drunk you weren't stupid enough to cheat on me, even in your imagination." Her words were betrayed slightly by the slight quirk to her lips.

He barked out a laugh and grasped her hands pinning them beside her head and capturing those same tormenting lips firmly, taking his time to explore her mouth as her hips arched lightly up into him on instinct. "Stop." She bit out and tried to free her hands, he pulled back looking down at her incredulously, his dick was already long and hard and he could smell her arousal, even feel the dampness if he angled his hips just right, welcoming him in. _Surely she wasn't serious?_

"Go purge that crap out of your system however it is you do it. I want you sober in this bed."

He felt something close to a snarl tear from him and he pinned her harder into the bed, his lips inches from her. "And I want you now. One of our _wants_ is going to have to give here." He added darkly, having no intention of it being his for once.

Clara glared up at him, "Do as you are told." She commanded and his dick twitched, forcing him to suppress a shudder at the way her words rolled over him, God he wanted to bend to her will, nothing made him harder, or want her more than when she was trying to control him.

"Compromise." He rasped, his hands going beneath her and lifting her firmly from the bed ignoring her gasp of surprise as her legs slotted around his hips out of necessity as she clung to his shoulders. He turned them and stumbled the steps to the dresser, dropping her ass onto it and stepping firmly between her legs. "We're not in the bed anymore, _and_ I get you now. Then I'll purge my system." It was as reasonable a compromise as he thought he could manage right now.

Her look was like molten fire but her thighs tightened around his hips as he pressed the head of himself into her inner thigh, sliding upwards as he hiked her nightgown up. Her hands went to his wrists but for once he could feel the way she was trembling and he smirked up at her, giving her the twinkling blue eyed gaze this face at least could pull off. "You missed me." He reminded her, her fingers loosened fractionally as he just brushed the outside of her sex with his now painfully hard dick, her eyes fluttered shut for a moment and her mouth parted. He bent catching those same lips. "We've both waited long enough don't you think." He baited, clutching her ass and angling her so that his next gentle thrust was against her clit. He wanted her to surrender he realised and it had nothing to do with control this time, he just wanted to see her walls crumble, for her to trust him enough to let that happen, to know she didn't need to control him every moment.

"Clara." He rasped against her lips, sucking her tongue deeply into his mouth and relishing the taste and feel of her. "My Clara... this is home remember." He offered and he watched her eyes open onto his. Her legs shifted firmly around his hips and with a single flex of them she had drawn him against her centre. He stared back, pressing a gentle kiss to her now reddened lips and let the head of his all but weeping cock dip inside of her. Even that contact was like a lightening bolt through his fried nervous system and he considered that she had probably been right about purging himself first... but it was too late now and he'd be damned if he'd let her know she'd been right. He slid his hands along her thighs, shifting them higher as he slid slowly and deeply into her welcoming wet heat not bothering to suppress his groan of sheer pleasure at the sensation. He always said he was custom built for her... but he didn't think he'd ever told her that the reverse was also therefore true. She pulsed around him deliciously as she stretched to accommodate him, always so tight for him creating the delicious friction he craved.

In a way he almost wished this was all he craved... her body and the pleasures they could bring one another. Though difficult he could learn to live without it, to find alternatives. But it wasn't just that, he craved _all _of her, the sight, the sound, the sharp wit, the lively mind, her gentle mothering, the control freak and the egomaniac, the tormenting siren, even her righteous fury. Everything about her seemed designed to draw him in and keep him there. The bumbling Bow-Tied idiot he'd been had no idea, if he'd had, he'd have run a mile from that kind of dependency. But then it would have been both of their loss. There was something to be said for surrendering control of your hearts and even your sanity to someone else. Something freeing in it that softened out the utter terror. But of course he knew what it was to be without her now, the feeling of loss, the spiral... he wouldn't let it happen again.

Clara's voice roused him gently from his thoughts, "Stay with me." Her voice surprised him as did the hands that she placed gently on his cheeks, drawing his eyes and his mind back to her in this moment, clearly having noticed his lapse, even if it was to think of her.

"Always." He groaned thrusting smoothly into her, ignoring her attempts to increase his pace as he focussed on brushing her clit with every long powerful stroke. He wanted her to quake with need, to scream her release for him.

"Doctor please, harder." She pleaded breathlessly and he all but lifted her, leaning into her to improve his angle and finding those extra centimetres he needed to bring the friction between their pelvises to a fever pitch. "Oh God." She managed and he swallowed the rest of her words and sounds, her mouth almost slack against him as her entire body trembled with her release and he squeezed his eyes shut against the sensation of her fluttering all around him, trying to bring him with her. Her hands rose to clutch at the back of his head as it became apparent he wasn't stopping, his long slow thrusts continuing like a metronome inside of her and she clung to him desperately as he rode out her orgasm, taking particular attention to build another. He pressed his forehead to hers and pushed into her mind, she was unprepared and he took advantage, letting loose in there every fantasy he'd entertained about her, every agonising moment she'd forced them apart, the sheer flood of emotion and feeling her touch bought in him after convincing himself she would never return.

Her head fell back and he caught it cradling her even as he pressed her to his chest to hold her as the convulsion tore through her strong enough to rip the raw scream from her that he'd wanted. Only then did he let himself go, thrusting wildly into her until he was spilling himself deep inside of her, every ounce of pent up frustration leaving him as he let her inner walls milk him. He fell heavily against her, panting and feeling the twitch of his spent cock within her softening as he refused to relinquish her trembling form just yet. Her breath was warm and heavy against his chest and he could feel the quivering of her body beneath him, her hands clutching him released slowly until they fell in quite patterns against his sides, as if she couldn't bear to release his skin either.

"You do realise the day I met you, it utterly ruined me for other men." She murmured kissing his now smooth chin, before the effort seemed to exhaust her and she fell back as far as the dresser would allow.

He smirked. "It was the general idea." He forced his protesting muscles to work as he lifted her around his waist, slipping from her regretfully and moving them both back to the bed, dropping her lightly on it. He paused, standing beside it and closing his eyes, wiggling his left foot.

"What on Earth are you doing?" she asked and he cracked one eye open, seeing her arched eyebrow as she watched him all but hop on one foot with faint amusement.

"Purging..." he replied, feeling the heat pooling in his left foot as he focussed every inch of his vasculature and lymphatic system to expel the toxins he'd forced into his body over the past God knows how long. There was a deep stinging as he felt it leave his foot and he hopped vigorously, hissing slightly and rubbing his foot into the cool metal floor until it passed, leaving him surprisingly clear headed and refreshed.

"Quite finished?" she asked coquettishly and he nodded smugly at her look of envy, she was clearly wishing a human hangover could be dealt with quite so effectively.

"Finished?" he leapt onto the bed with a laugh of delight as he pinned her beneath him again. "Oh I'm more than refreshed, I'm positively... raring." He let her feel the evidence of that against her stomach and her eyes widened in surprise.

"You've been a wicked, wicked wife." He reminded her, divesting her of the nightclothes she'd managed to retain in quick measure, before leaning in to nip at her pert breasts, the dark nipples standing out and all but begging for his attention as he sucked on one then the other. "Punishment is in order." He added blowing warm air across said nipples and watching the skin grow harder in delight, she had a moment to give him one curiously dark look as he met her eyes with a grin of his own, before he flipped her over and pressed himself against her back grabbing the silken nightgown she'd been wearing and with determination tearing it into strips.

"Hey!" she protested slightly and he straddled the back of her thighs, pressing the palm of his hand against her lower back to keep her there.

"She'll make you another one." He promised, knowing that if the TARDIS didn't he damn well would. The strips in hand he reached for her right wrist and wrapped the silk tightly around it before bringing the left one to it and binding them together firmly enough that even he'd struggle to break free. He let them fall above her head and admired the sight of her stretched out on her stomach beneath him, bound. She had very rarely ever let him bind her, not compared to the times she'd enjoyed seeing him this way, and if she had it had been within her ability to break free. He felt the tension of the act pool between her shoulder blades and in the tightening of her thighs beneath him.

He flipped her over onto her back her bound hands coming down to her chest; that would never do. He tore free another stretch of silk and grasped her linked hands, lifting them up until they were closer to the wooden frame of his bed that held the canopy. He looped the silk around and through the silk at her wrist binding her firmly to it and gave an experimental tug to test before he slid his hands back to her body, lying her diagonally now across the vast expanse of his sheets.

He paused rocking back on his heels as he straddled her again, staring down at her oddly compliant form and asking without a word if he could continue. Her eyes were wide and black, her breathing heavy as it lifted her chest and those pert dark rosebud tipped breasts of hers inched closer to him. He ran his thumbs over them, feeling the skin pebble and harden beneath his touch as her stomach arched her back a fraction to bring her closer to his touch. He pulled back, reaching for the much maligned nightgown and tearing free another strip of silk, watching her curious excited eyes as they absorbed his every move. He raised it to her head and didn't give her the time to think about it as he slipped it over her eyes and tied it firmly, cutting off the sense but robbing him of her reactions.

"Doctor?" she voiced and he pressed a finger to her lips, following it up with a kiss that he hoped left her searing because it sure enough left him light headed.

"Shhhh." He rasped, flicking his tongue into her ear lobe and drawing a shudder from her in surprise as he trailed his fingers down her sternum to her naval. "Some fantasies are better shared." He murmured, reaching down to his once again hardening cock and brushing it through the neat dark thatch of hair between her legs. She arched in response beneath him and he heard the telltale trip of her heartbeat as she recalled just what fantasies he'd chosen to share with her in their moment of connected passion.

He pulled away, stepping off the bed to leave her lying there exposed and vulnerable as she craned her head trying to see through the silk as to what he was doing. He cocked his head observing her. "I have a question for you Clara." He began and she turned towards his voice, her lips pursing.

"Now?" she asked pulling lightly at her restraints to indicate her position.

"It would seem ideal, you are hardly in a position to protest." He murmured and he watched in mild delight as colour suffused her cheeks, but the question did need to be broached, it wouldn't leave him. Had in fact been plaguing him, and whilst he was free of the toxins that had clouded his judgement, it hadn't cleared him of the damn question.

"Why do we talk out-loud when we know we're alone?" her covered features frowned and he stood stalking silently around the room his eyes transfixed on her naked clearly uneasy form as his mind whirled.

"I don't kn..." she began and he interrupted.

"Conjecture... because we know we're not." Her head shot around to track his new position clearly startled by this current line of questioning.

"Doctor I don't..." she tried once again and once again he cut her off.

"Evolution perfects survival skills Clara. There are perfect hunters. There is perfect defence."

"Yes but what does this have to do..."

He cut her off for the last time. "So my question is why is there no such thing as perfect hiding?" he waited a beat seeing the question stir her curiosity in the way her entire body tensed and her hands tugged once more on the restraints. "Answer... how would you know?" he let that idea hang between them and saw her tension become palpable. "Logically, if evolution were to perfect a creature whose primary skill were to hide from view, how could you know it existed?" he moved around the room silently, watching as she tried to track him. "It could be with us every second and we would never know." He saw the swallow she took, the uneasy shiver that went through her body as she turned her head from side to side, the idea finally taking route. "How would you detect it, even sense it?" he brushed the bed and she startled lightly surprised to find him so close, "Except in those moments when, for no clear reason you choose to speak aloud? What would such a creature want?" he paused. "What would it do?" he brushed his hand between her legs featherlight and she let out a shriek, arching into his hand as he chuckled with raw delight as he felt her trembling beneath his touch before he withdrew; but just as he suspected behind the sudden flash of fear he'd managed to spike he sensed her arousal. That was _his _Clara, an adrenalin junky to the last.

"You ass!" she bit out, pulling now on her bindings but interestingly she didn't ask to be released.

"What would _you_ do Clara given such a skill?" he teased genuinely curious.

* * *

><p>If this was a new form of torture for what he considered her transgressions Clara was surprisingly ok with it, as she all but subconsciously felt her thighs rub together at the provocative nature of his questions and even blindfolded she could feel the heat of his gaze on her. She had no answer to his provocative question though, possibly because most of her blood flow had now centred between her legs, made worse by the idea that she was preoccupied with wondering what he was doing... or planning in her blinded state.<p>

But his line of eerie questions weren't done apparently and she almost screamed in frustration for him to simply touch her. "Proposition Clara." The word in his Scottish brogue had her stomach fluttering, "What if no one is ever really alone? What if every single living being has a companion, a silent passenger, a shadow? What if the prickle on the back of your neck, is the breath of something close behind you?"

He chose that moment to let his own breath flutter warmly across her breasts and she clamped her mouth down tightly so as to contain her cry of surprise this time.

Irritation and frustration, warred with her arousal and excitement, "That purging thing was all an act wasn't it, you're still high as a kite aren't you?" irritation won out momentarily she noted as she lifted her head to stare blindly in the direction she thought he was, her silken bonds straining as she planted her feet trying to get purchase on the silky sheets beneath her. But his questions piqued her interest despite the state of heightened arousal he'd managed to get her into seemingly effortlessly, which given the state she'd found him in really said something about his magnetism this face round. Although she was forced to recall some of what he'd been rambling about in his intoxicated state... that something was _hiding_ in the ship.

"Oh God, tell me there's not something in here with us, that I haven't let you tie me up naked to a bed when there's something hunting us from the shadows?" She pulled her legs upwards close to her chest and rolled onto her side as much as her bindings would allow in an attempt to be somehow less vulnerable. His strong cool hands went around her ankles and she did let out a cry of surprise that time as he tugged her legs back down and she felt the bed dip with his weight as he came to kneel between her thighs, not touching... but she could feel the feint heat emanating from him.

"What if there's always been something in here with us?"

Clara felt his hands slide up her calves and she was torn between arousal and genuine alarm. "Okay either seduce me or terrify me, but for God's sake pick one because the two together is genuinely disturbing." She managed as his hands slid up higher to her thighs. He chuckled darkly and she kicked out at him lightly, only to find his grip tightening as he continued to pull her by her legs towards him.

"Now now, or I'll tie your ankles to the other post." He warned and she took him seriously enough to not attempt it again. "Besides since when do you want to pick between fear and arousal... you get as turned on as I do by the thrill running for your life gives you." He pointed out and she chose not to dignify that with an answer, mostly because she thought he was probably right.

"Are we in danger right now?" she asked coolly, not putting it past him to take the time to shag her senseless in the middle of a crisis. It was hard to judge his answers though when she couldn't see his face, he was a good liar at the best of times and all she had to go on was his voice at the moment which he had dropped an octave to purr his little nightmare inducing lines at her in.

His breath ghosted across her inner thigh and she bucked slightly in surprise at the sensation. "Do you feel in danger?" he teased, his grip on her ankles tightening as he took the opportunity of her distraction to bring them together swiftly and lift them straight up as he pressed his front to the back of her thighs. It was more than a little exposed a position to be in and she actually considered his question as his fingers splayed out across her stomach, his touch everywhere but where she wanted it. But his grip on her was strong, the strength of his fingers of one hand around both her ankles, the feel of his thighs against her, the sound of his breath, he was the Doctor and her husband, and whilst on occasion she was a little afraid of him, she knew that right now like this with him, she had never been safer... even if there was something hiding in the shadows.

"Good girl." He rasped, sensing the relaxation that spread like a wave through her. "But you still have to be punished." He murmured biting the back of her knee lightly before spreading a trail of kisses up her leg to her ankle. She felt his right hand slide down the back of her exposed thighs as he pulled her legs up a little higher until her ass was barely touching the sheets and she realised she really had only herself to blame for the way their sexual relationship had developed as she gripped onto the silken bindings at her wrists tensing expectantly. He didn't disappoint his hand came down hard on her ass cheek and she bucked at the sharp sting, but pressed her lips into a thin line. She'd made him take his punishment in silence what seemed like an age ago to her now when she'd first changed their dynamic.

"Oh no, no, no." he rasped his erection hard again as he slid it between the softer flesh of her closed thighs thrusting lightly too high for her to derive any satisfaction from the delicious friction. "Silence was _your_ trick... I want you to scream for me."

Clara swallowed hard. "Then I suggest you make me!" She bit out, feeling the familiar sensation of butterflies and coiled tension in her stomach that being this close to him always bought out.

His hand landed soundly on her ass cheeks again, taking up her challenge as he started up a pattern of hard and soft slaps against the sensitive skin, occasionally rising upwards to the backs of her thighs until she was writhing faintly in the need to contain her cries. Then his hand connected solidly across her sex and she shrieked, the pain spiking into pleasure as he slapped the same spot again, making sure to catch her clit this time. He continued to rain torturous blows down across her skin and her sex until she was sobbing, her head thrashing as she bit down against her lips trying to angle her body away from him even as she bucked towards him, torn between the duelling sensations of pleasure and pain.

Mercifully he stopped, her legs dropping and falling open almost bonelessly as she prayed that he might take pity on her no doubt glistening sex and put her out of her misery, even the feel of the silk sheet against the enflamed skin of her backside was torment. "Please." She pleaded and she heard him chuckle darkly, the arousal she could hear in his tone only further increasing her own. Strong hands gripped her hips and flipped her over onto her stomach before straddling the backs of her thighs pressing her enflamed centre into the cool sheets and rubbing painfully against the now reddened skin on the backs of her legs. His hands went to her ass again and she took in a hissed breath at the feel of their coolness against the raw flesh, before he slowly started to knead the cheeks firmly, cupping and fondling.

"Tell me." He asked quietly and she bit down on her lip as he ran a finger along the cleft of her cheeks, tracing down until he was able to slowly press one long finger into the puckered hole of her ass as she drew in a shocked breath at the intrusion. "Tell me what I want to hear." He reiterated when she did little more than pant at the situation, curling her fingers tighter around the bindings at her wrists as he slid his finger deftly in and out, his thighs pressing into the backs of hers and rocking her hips into the sheets until she couldn't help but moan at the feeling.

"I'm yours." She bit out knowing exactly what he'd wanted her to say and she felt his hand against her lower back, pressing her further into the sheets as he slipped another finger into twin with his other. Clara let out a cry at the sensation and buried her head pulling taut against the bindings as he began to stretch her. The pain pleasure of it continued until his other hand dipped between her legs and he slid two fingers into her dripping centre overtaking her with pleasure.

"TELL ME!" he insisted his voice vibrating down the back of her neck as he leant over her his fingers sliding deeper into her from both angles and she shuddered violently at the dual sensation.

Clara turned her head, her blindfold stealing her sight but she could feel his eyes on her face, waiting... "I love you, God please, I love you." She felt him hesitate and she swallowed her pride and what remained of her anger knowing that they both needed her to let it go. "I'm sorry."

"Knees; get on your knees." He rasped his voice sounding strained as he withdrew his fingers from her she tried not to cry out at the loss and chase his touch but his chuckle suggested he knew as she obeyed and used the bindings at her wrists to pull herself up to her knees. He slotted behind her, his thighs pressed close and she felt the palm of his hand whisper along her spine until his fingers settled at the back of her head and he pushed her head forward and down. Her forehead touched the sheets and her ass remained somewhat indecently and probably tantalisingly up in the air. "Why are you always such a temptation." He murmured his hand tracing patterns along her back as she fought not to push back into the erection she knew was probably already weeping, thick and long and as eager for her as she was for him. But he was more patient this face around, he'd demonstrated that admirably even if she'd turned a blind eye to it recently.

"Beg me." He asked quietly his hands stroking and caressing her ass, the still sensitive flesh causing her to grit her teeth as her sex throbbed with need.

She sighed gently. "Please, husband just fuck me, make me come." Her use of the f-word always had been a raging turn on to this version of him and she heard the sharp intake of breath it caused him now and she smirked into the sheets, pleased she wasn't entirely powerless like this. But whereas she'd expected the sudden hard thrust of him into her she was disappointed when his warmth left her body and she turned her head trying to see beyond the darkness of her blindfold. The bed moved and dipped and she felt him shift her thighs further apart, before the softness of his hair brushed her inner thighs. It took her a moment to realise his intent before her hips were roughly grasped and she was bought down onto his waiting mouth. The sound she released was anything but dignified as his tongue slid along her slick folds, but as it darted along and inside caressing she realised the pressure was all wrong to bring her release... just prolong her torment. She angled her hips trying to gain more pressure where she needed it, shamelessly rocking into his mouth only to find is strong hands holding her hips in place and she screamed in frustration as he nipped at her inner thigh and blindfolded or not she could feel his smirk.

"You utter bastard." She hissed, her fingers going white from frustration as she tugged at her bonds, certain she'd have found a use for that belt on him again if she could free herself.

He sucked her clit into his mouth and hummed against it violently as his fingers slid knuckle deep into her ass again, her startled breath came out strangled as she almost reached the crest of her orgasm, praying for it to crash over her only to be denied it as his mouth retreated and he left her agonisingly close.

"Please," she panted, staring blindly back at him, "I need..."

"And what of _my _needs?" he growled, his fingers sliding out of her as his hand swatted hard against her ass as the bed dipped and he moved once more out of reach. "I have been nothing more than your little fuck toy for months. Yours to summon and play with and toss away at will, to come eagerly scampering back like a dog to heel." There was a real bite and bitterness now to his tone that made her flinch almost instinctively as she lowered further onto her knees, sinking into a more comfortable position on the bed but not quite daring to move out of the position he'd placed her in just yet. Trying to judge where this little push-pull game of theirs began and where his real anger with her lay. Being as he hadn't chosen to mention that his decision to alter every atom of her being had resulted in her life being saved from certain death on at least two occasions, she chose not to remind him of her reasons for being such a stone cold bitch either, deciding that it would have come across merely childish.

"'And yet you came. You're the all powerful Time Lord, surely if I bought you to heel its only because you let me." She threw back at him, waiting for a response, she'd already apologised she'd be damned if she'd do it twice, besides she wasn't certain that was what he wanted, or if this was all just a part of her 'punishment'.

Her sass earned her a somewhat harder swipe across her ass, but he didn't reply and she suspected that maybe they had come to some unspoken agreement not to discuss again the time spent in Victorian London.

His hand brushed her face the sudden soft touch surprising as he cupped her chin lifting it lightly until she imagined she would have been looking directly at him. Clara felt her chest constrict painfully with almost tears from the sudden gentleness, she'd longed for this ridiculous man for months and now she had him they seemed incapable of simply letting their walls fall, of existing together without these games. More than anything she just wanted to see him, hold him.

"I don't want to fuck you." She whispered and his hand stilled, she could feel the hesitancy to his touch now. "I don't want to _be _fucked by you." She expanded and his hand fell away, Clara used the opportunity to lean her head forward towards her bound hands and pull off the blindfold, blinking in the dim light as she stared up at his still form hovering inches from the bed his eyes swirling blue maelstroms in a face set so severe she longed to smooth away the frown lines. "No more games today." She told him gently, lifting her bound hands towards him. His frown deepened and his hands went around her wrists, but he didn't undo the binding, his sharp blue eyes found hers, the question boring into her. "I want to make love to my husband." She pleaded quietly.

He was silent, which was disturbing enough in itself, before he roughly tugged her bound hands towards his chest, holding them firmly over his hearts. He swooped down and captured her mouth firmly, his kiss searing her as he swept his tongue inside, leaving her breathless as he pulled back, his nose still brushing hers. "Your husband is a near broken old fool."

Clara felt the pang of his self doubt and depreciation as clearly as if it were her own and her anger flared at herself and at him; that he would ever let himself think that way. "You are the Doctor." She informed him with quiet intensity. "You are the hero of fairytales and the thing the monsters fear."

He kissed her again, pulling her body until she was flush against him and her bonds strained at her wrists. "And what am I to you... am I a fairytale hero, or a monster?"

Clara pressed her bound hands to his chest palm down, listening to the steady thud that would forever match the one in her mind. "A little of both." She replied, looking up at him and seeing his dissatisfaction with the answer, "We all grow out of fairytales Doctor."

He grasped her wrists and slowly began to undo the silken bonds, not taking his eyes from her face. "I want the fairytale for you." He admitted as her hands came free and he massaged the slightly tender skin gently, dropping his head to press a kiss to the pulse point on each.

"I married you; that's close enough." His gaze bored into her and she knelt up, pressing her lips softly to his. "Make love to me." She asked him, her now freed hands sliding up the back of his head and bringing him down to her mouth again. "I just want you." She promised him, easing herself back onto the bed and taking him with her. His hands slid to her waist and thighs as she raised them around his narrow hips, parting herself for him and feeling the still hard heat of him brush her.

"I always want you." He murmured his lips against hers as he slid into her with practiced ease and she gasped at the sensation of it that never failed to have her shutting her eyes and drawing in a surprised breath. He lifted himself up on his elbows and buried a hand in her hair, rocking his hips forwards and pushing his pelvis deep against hers in a rocking motion, not needing to pull out as he found just the right pressure, keeping every inch of his body moulded to hers.

"Oh Gods." She managed, her hands wrapped around him, clutching at his back as she arched beneath him, his lips finding hers again and stealing her breath until everything started to bleed into one mass of sensation. He kept his mouth and body fused to hers as he pulled her up onto his lap, pulling her flush against him as he slid deeper, his hands at her ass as he rocked her into him. His mouth dropped to her neck as he gasped as breathless as she was. "Look at me." She pleaded grasping his face in her hands and finding his eyes. They locked with hers and she crushed her lips to his again, pulling away to share his breath. His eyes were a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings she couldn't hope to chase, but all she needed to see was the devotion there for her.

"I want to marry you." She rasped as his every thrust brought her closer to an orgasm she refused to let wash over her until he was as close as she was.

"I think we already did that dance." He replied, his left hand finding hers and wrapping their fingers together and clinking the rings that proved his point as he drove that little bit harder and deeper as she arched into him, unable to keep her eyes on his like this.

"Again... I want to marry you again." She clarified, reaching up to stroke his face and his mad expressive eyebrows. "This face." She opened her eyes onto his in time to see them shut as he strained against his own reaction to both her words and the way their bodies were rocking together in harmony.

"Yes." He gasped out his answer to her somewhat inappropriate proposal, his voice straining as his grip on her waist grew tighter and she felt the tremor run through him, the sensation as it entered her mind was enough to tip her over the edge and she came hard rocking desperately against him as he clutched at her, giving into his own orgasm as he shuddered in his release, holding her as close as he could so that she could feel every trip of his hearts thudding against her chest.

He fell asleep wrapped around her with his head on her chest shortly after, and Clara let her fingers rise to brush through his hair, enjoying the gentle warmth of his breath over her cooling skin. He was obviously more drained from his little 'purge' than he pretended, but her body whilst exhausted was too caught up in the tumult of emotions she'd put it through for sleep, so she merely held him, relishing the feel and smell of him around her again and knowing it wouldn't have to end in the morning. Clara dozed and in her half conscious state she felt the tension rise in his body, felt the prick of terror across their linked minds and the dip into a nightmare that wasn't her own but might as well have been.

_She sat up, staring wildly about the room, the Doctor was nowhere to be seen the bed cold without him, but the hairs on the back of her neck prickled and she stared blindly about the near darkness. Something was there, watching... she blinked and threw her legs over the side of the bed, pausing, anticipation and nameless fear rising in the pit of her stomach. Cool fingers wrapped around her ankle..._


End file.
